Do You Believe in Magic?
by Snapegirlkmf
Summary: Bae was an outcast, friendless, and desperate for one, growing up as the son of coward Rumple. Until a girl falls through a portal into his world, she's just as friendless as he is, and unloved by her widowed father. Can this strange friendship stand hardships and pain and save Rumple from a dagger's curse? Full summary inside. Eventual Rumbelle, AU. Set in FTL/ Manhattan.
1. The Secret Door

Do You Believe In Magic?

**Baelfire was a lonely little boy, an outcast because his father was a coward and his mother a bitter angry woman who couldn't forgive her husband or love her family. He desperately longs for a friend, but no child will be one, until the day a little girl falls through a portal into Fairy Tale Land. Valentina is a child from our world rejected by her widowed father, knowing neither love or kindness, she makes up stories of a land where magic is real and a friend awaits her. A wish brings them together, but can their odd friendship cross worlds and sustain them through hardships and prevent a dagger's curse from stealing away Rumple's soul? Or is Rumple destined to become the Dark One, and cost Bae his father and Valentina the only person who has ever truly cared for her? **

**1**

**The Secret Door**

_Rumplestiltskin's village_

_Fairy Tale Land:_

If there was one thing young Baelfire, son of the spinner Rumplestiltskin and his wife Milah, hated, it was when his parents quarreled. And lately, that's all they seemed to do. Or at least Milah did, taking any opportunity to scream and berate her crippled husband, trying her absolute best to make Rumple sorry he'd ever come home alive from the Ogre Wars. Because he'd deserted his company, refusing to fight and throw away his life for the duke who was the overlord over the peasants of their village, and permanently injured his leg doing so, while escaping from the military encampment, Milah and over half their village thought him the worst coward.

None of them cared that Rumplestiltskin had never been a warrior, never even been trained to hold a staff or sword or bow, that his only talent was spinning wool into the softest most durable thread imaginable, and creating lovely dyes and skeins of yarn in brilliant colors that didn't run or wash out in the laundry. None of them cared that had he stayed, he would have surely died and left Milah and her newborn son, Bae, fatherless.

No one . . . except Bae.

He alone was grateful that his father was still alive to be there for him. Even though sometimes it was hard being the son of the local coward, and having the other village boys tease him and beat him up on occasion, Bae wasn't bitter and hateful towards Rumple like his mother was. He alone saw how hard Rumple tried to provide a good life for him and Milah, and Rumple was more understanding and kind to his son and wife than many a villager who lived beside them.

Rumple rarely shouted back at Milah when she started on one of her tirades, unlike Master Perry Thatcher, who bellowed loud enough to be heard in King George's palace two kingdoms away, and also beat his wife. Poor Melanie Thatcher was sometimes black and blue from his fist, and she was a meek mouse of a woman because of it. Rumplestiltskin had never, in all the years Bae had seen him, raised his hand to Milah, even when she threw plates and bobbins at her husband and screeched words Bae was forbidden to say unless he wanted to eat soap at the gentle spinner as well.

Bae knew that once there had been harmony in his small house, but that had been long ago, when he was a mere baby, and he couldn't really remember those times. Now there were periods when Milah and Rumple would go without speaking to one another, but they were few and far between, and usually by the end of a week, they were fighting again.

It was enough to give the quiet six-year-old a stomachache.

But at least Rumple wasn't like the ill-tempered Master Tanner, who never had a kind word for anyone, and was quick to chase small boys with sticks and rocks if they happened to venture too near his workshop. He also used his fists and belt on his three sons, though he called it discipline, and his sons feared him for it. But they were also some of the meanest boys in the village, always picking on the smaller children and stealing anything that wasn't nailed down. Bae had hidden from them more than once, and gotten a black eye from the youngest, Callum, just because Callum felt the son of the spinner coward needed reminding of his place.

Bae detested them, though a part of him also felt sorry for them, having to live with a father like Master Tanner, who beat his children rather than hugged them. Rumplestiltskin was not the kind of harsh father some of the men thought it necessary to be with his son. He enjoyed playing with his son, encouraging Bae to learn things, and teaching by example. And if Bae happened to get into mischief, which wasn't all that frequently, Rumple scolded and used chores and silent time in a corner as punishments, and Bae could count on one hand the times his papa had smacked his behind for anything. And those times had been when Bae had been horrendously naughty, like the time he'd refused to take a bath and thrown a screaming fit and also a wooden horse at Rumple's head, or the time when he had hidden behind the woodpile and ignored his papa's frantic calls to come out because he was mad at him for not bringing him a treat from the market, and made Rumple search for hours for his missing son. Then he'd had the temerity to tell his father that he wasn't sorry he'd made Rumple go almost out of his mind looking for him.

But even when the spinner was angry enough at his son to spank him, Bae was never punished that severely, and once a few swats were given, Rumple always made sure his son knew he was forgiven and loved afterwards. And the boy got the distinct feeling that his papa hated doling out such a punishment even more than Baelfire hated receiving it.

Unlike his mother, who sometimes pinched Bae's ear hard enough to leave red marks on it, or smacked him on the back of the head when he annoyed her by asking questions over and over and not doing as she said quickly enough. She rarely had time to spend with him, and was usually ordering him to go outside and play with the other kids his age and get out of her hair.

Which Bae was only too happy to do, but he wished he had a friend among the village children. But most of the children his age laughed at him for being coward Rumple's son, and none of the boys his age wanted to risk being an outcast for being the friend of the coward's son.

So Bae learned to play by himself, but he was lonely, and he longed for a child his own age who could be the friend he never had.

That morning had started out fine, with Milah cooking porridge and frying some bacon over the fire, they had even had some bread that Rumple had managed to trade for in exchange for some cloth he had woven in a bright blue color. Milah had spread it with some drippings from the bacon and served it. It had been a long time since Bae had a treat like that, and he had thoroughly enjoyed it, until he'd taken a second piece and Milah had snapped at him for being a greedy little brat.

That had caused Rumple to tell Milah to leave Bae alone, that the boy was hungry and should be allowed to eat his fill, and Milah shouldn't take her temper out on him. So she took it out on her husband instead, yelling that they'd all have enough to eat if Rumple hadn't ruined his reputation by refusing to fight and how she was sick of being known as the village coward's wife, and when in hell was he going to grow a spine and do something useful?

Bae had listened to them arguing for several minutes, and the ache in his tummy had grown with every angry word his mother called his father, until he couldn't stand it anymore, and had run from the cottage to his special place, which was a small glade beside the stream that bordered the village.

The glade was a little culvert, bordered on two sides by thickets of blackberry bushes, and on the south side was the stream, and the north side had the ruins of an old stone hut. Rumple had told his son that was where a shepherd had lived a long time ago, and since he had packed up and left one day, the hut remained empty. Then a big storm had come when Bae was two and the hut had collapsed and no one had bothered to fix it again. It was now a pile of rubble, though one section of the wall had remained slightly intact.

Bae loved the glade, it was his own private place, where none of the village boys could find him, since they were all too big to crawl between the blackberry thickets, and some of them thought the tumbled down hut haunted by the shepherd's ghost, even though none of them even knew if the man was dead or not.

The glade was beautiful, with the sparkling silvery water on one side, and the thickets filled with ripe blackberries during the summer, and pretty flowers in the spring. The grass was green and soft there, and sometimes Bae would see tiny bunnies hopping, and butterflies among the thickets, and birds flying in and out of the branches of the big oak and maple trees that bordered the stream.

There Bae could sit still and dream of a time when his parents weren't unhappy, and no one shouted or threw things, and he didn't have to worry about being hungry sometimes or going to bed with his ears ringing from Milah's hand or listening to the taunts and sneers of the village boys.

There he could simply imagine himself riding away on a tall horse, like a knight, or rescuing some girl in a tower, or saving the life of a prince and being rewarded with lots of gold, so then his mother would finally be happy about something and his father wouldn't have to spin all day and night just to make ends meet, whatever that meant.

He also imagined himself with a friend he could talk to and play with, a friend who wouldn't call him a crybaby and the son of a coward, a friend who liked him and wanted to be with him. This friend didn't have a face, but Bae had fun imagining what the other boy looked like and all the things he could do with someone else.

He was lying there on the grass that morning, not caring if he got his tunic and leggings wet from the dew that seemed to linger past the early morning sometimes, one leg crossed over the other, imagining what it would be like to be on a fine blooded horse like the lord's men rode, and which Bae had seen going past the village one day.

The sun was rather bright that morning, making him squint and look towards the crumbled section of wall, which was about four feet high, and had bits of moss and ivy growing from it. He had his father's large brown eyes, and his mother's dark brown curly hair, people often said he looked like her, but Bae thought he was more like Rumple, with his fine features and thin build.

As he squinted, a shaft of strong sunlight fell on the wall.

Bae glanced away for a moment, blinking to clear his eyes from the sun's glare.

When he looked back, there was a glowing door in the wall.

Bae stared in shock. How did a door come to be in the wall?

He scrambled to his feet, his mouth agape, when the door suddenly became an odd blue color, almost translucent, and then a girl wearing a faded pink dress, her brown hair in two pigtails, with shiny black shoes and a smudge of dirt on her cheek, stumbled through the door and fell on the ground right beside Bae's feet.

"Hey! Are you all right?" he asked.

The girl, who looked to be about his own age, picked herself up from the grass, and said, "Sure, I'm okay. I hurt myself worse climbing the apple tree in Mrs. Starkey's backyard. Where am I, anyway?"

"Uh . . . this is my secret glade." Bae said. "Who are you?"

"Valentina Morinelli. But just call me Val. Everyone does. What's your name?"

"Baelfire. But you can call me Bae," he answered diffidently.

The little girl cocked her head at him. "You talk kinda funny. Are you from New Jersey? 'Cause my papa says people from New Jersey talk funny, not like us from New York."

"What's New York?" Bae asked, puzzled. "Is it like in another kingdom?"

"No, silly! It's in America, the USA. You know, with the Statue of Liberty and the Empire State Building." When Bae looked at her blankly, she continued. "The Big Apple, the city that never sleeps, Manhattan."

"I've never heard of any of those places," Bae said.

"Man, this must be the boonies, like Papa always says."

"I live over there, in the village," Bae pointed back through the blackberry thickets.

Val looked where he pointed and said, "You mean Greenwich Village? Or someplace in New Jersey?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Bae admitted.

"Never mind. I don't care if you are from New Jersey. And where'd you get the clothes?"

"My papa made them," answered Bae proudly.

"They're neat. Like from the olden days," Val said. "Is your papa a tailor? Mine's a manager for Macy's. He tells everybody what they should do and how to do it. It's an important job, but he's never home until late, and I'm always asleep . . . unless I try and wait up for him, but then he gets mad and I get in trouble."

"Why? Doesn't he want to see you and tuck you in at night? My papa's a spinner, and he works all day, but he always tucks me in and tells me stories before I fall asleep."

Val shrugged. "No. I wish he did that. He says good children should be seen and not heard and he's too busy to be bothered with me when he comes home and he'll see me in the morning. Only when I get up he's usually gone to work again and Mrs. DeLuca's there to watch me."

"What happened to your mama?"

"She went to heaven to live with baby Jesus and the angels when I was born," Val answered. "It made Papa all mad and upset, and that's why he doesn't care whether or not he sees me too much. 'Cause it's my fault she's gone."

"Did you tell her to go?"

"No! I was a little baby, I couldn't even talk yet."

"Then how could it be your fault?"

"I dunno. But Mrs. DeLuca says that's what Papa thinks, and Papa's smart, so it must be true. Sometimes I wish she'd come back and live with us again, but Mrs. DeLuca says she can't and we'll just have to wait till we get old and go to heaven and see her. Only Papa says only good girls go to heaven and I'm nothing but a wicked brat so I guess I ain't never goin' there to see her."

"Maybe if you wish really hard, it'll happen."

"I tried that already. I wished on falling star and nothing happened. Then I wished on a comet last night for a friend and I ran through the bushes in Central Park to get away from Marie Olson—she's the nastiest girl in first grade at my school—she always steals my lunch and knocks me down when the teacher's not looking and I tripped and fell right through the bushes or whatever and ended up here."

"She sounds as mean as Benny and Marty Thatcher," Bae sympathized. "They like to chase me all over and rub my face in the dirt."

"Marie wanted my cupcake," Val told him, and reached into a pocket to reveal a slightly squashed Hostess chocolate cupcake in its wrapper. "She always wants whatever I have, even though her papa can buy half of Wall Street." She ripped off the wrapping and held the cupcake out to Bae. "Want half?"

Bae's eyes lit up. "Sure!" He took the half she handed him and tasted it. It was so good! Better even than the cakes his mother made on feast days. "Thanks!" he said, recalling his manners.

"You're welcome," Val said, smiling at him shyly as she bit into the remaining half of the cupcake. "I love these, but I like Twinkies too."

Bae didn't know what a Twinkie was, but he didn't see how anything could be better than this cupcake. He ate the half in four bites and then licked his fingers to get all the frosting. "Mmm! That was the best thing I ever tasted."

"Uh huh. I wish my papa bought them all the time." Then she was thirsty, so she went over to the stream and tried to cup some water in her hands, but she didn't know how to do it right and only succeeded in getting her hands and dress wet.

"Here," Bae said, holding out a small tin cup. "Use this."

Val took it and filled it with water and drank. It tasted wonderful, much better than the water from the faucet in her apartment. "Ahh! This water is great. Thanks, Bae." She handed the cup back to him.

He filled it and drank as well. Once they had both drank their fill, Bae put the cup back in his pouch, which hung on his belt. It was then he realized that for the first time he didn't have to imagine doing something fun, he actually had someone to do something fun with. And it didn't matter that she was girl who lived someplace he'd never heard of.

"Hey, you wanna play chase?" he asked.

"Is that like tag?"

"It's a game where you chase the other person and try to touch them," Bae explained. Maybe they called it tag in New York. "And if you get them, then they have to chase you."

"Yup. That's tag," Val said. "Okay. And then we can play Simon Says."

"What's that?"

"You never heard of Simon Says?" Val blinked. "We play it all the time in Miss MacKenna's class at school. What do you people in Jersey do, watch the grass grow?"

"No. That'd be really boring." Bae said. Then he sprang at her and tapped her on the shoulder. "Got you! You're it, Val!"

"No fair! I wasn't ready yet! Do it over!"

"But . . . fine!" he sighed. "Ready or not, here I come." Then he went to tag her again, but she jumped away.

"Run, run, run, fast as you can, can't catch me, I'm the gingerbread girl!" she sang as she ran about the glade, her pigtails flying out behind her.

"It's the gingerbread _man_," Bae corrected, having heard that story lots of times from Rumple.

"I'm not a man," Val cried. "So it's the gingerbread _girl_. And you can't catch me, Baelfire!"

"Can too!" he cried, and ran faster, trying to tag her.

Val was fast, but she was also tired from running away from that bully Marie, and soon she was panting hard and Bae caught up with her and touched her on the shoulder. "Gotcha! You're it, Val!"

Then Val chased him all around the glade, until she finally tagged him.

Laughing, they played tag until they were both tired, and then they sat in the grass, resting.

Val looked up at the blue sky and saw several clouds scudding by. One of her favorite games was pretending she saw things in the clouds. "Look up there, Bae! Do you see the unicorn?"

Bae looked up then. He liked to play this game too. "I see a dragon," he pointed to a large cloud.

"I see a castle."

"I see a knight."

"I see a wicked witch," Val said, and shivered.

"I see a sorcerer and he beats up the witch," Bae replied.

"I see a rabbit."

"I see a cat sleeping."

"I see a dog running," Val murmured, yawning. "M' tired. I think I'll take a nap."

"Me too," Bae agreed, thinking this was the most fun he'd ever had, and now he had a friend at last. Then his eyes fluttered closed and he slept.

Val put out a hand and took the boy's in her own. It felt good to hold someone's hand and not get yelled at and told to go play with her stuffed animals and dolls and stop being a nuisance. Then she buried her cheek in the sweet smelling grass and fell asleep as well.

The two children slept for two hours, only waking because they heard a voice close by them.

"Bae! Bae, where are you?"

Baelfire woke up and rubbed his eyes.

Val sat up too. "Bae, who's that?"

"It's my papa." Bae replied. "Be right there, Papa!" he yelled back. Then he looked at Val. "Come on. You can say hello."

Val hesitated. She didn't know many adult men, and she was afraid Bae's dad wouldn't like her, the way her own didn't. "Umm . . ."

"Come _on_, Val,"Bae said, tugging on her hand. "Before I get in trouble for not coming right away."

"Like he'll smack you 'cross the face and say you're a wicked brat he's gonna sell to the Gypsies?" Val asked apprehensively.

Bae shook his head. "Papa doesn't hit me . . . well, only if I've been really bad and then he says to not make him do it again and he hugs me. No, Mama's the one who might do that. But Papa'll scold, and maybe he won't let me play with you again."

"No," Val whispered, terrified at losing the first real friend she'd ever had. "Okay, I'll come." Swallowing hard, she took Bae's hand and followed him from the glade, her knees knocking together slightly. She hoped Bae's papa wouldn't be too cross because he hadn't come right when he'd called, and tell her to go home. Because she liked it here in New Jersey, it was much more fun than boring old Manhattan, and maybe she could stay for supper, like friends always did in all the books Mrs. DeLuca read to her.

**A/N: This is a story i am writing at the request of an old friend who also happens to be a counselor for abused children. She wished me to write a story set in this fandom which centers around abused children to stimulate more awareness of this sad topic and this is what I've come up with. Hope you all like!**


	2. New Friends

**2**

**New Friends**

Bae emerged from the glade by crawling a little through the blackberry thickets, and then reached out to help Val as well, only to discover the little girl was as adept as he was at getting about through tangled thickets. He stood up and brushed off his clothes, knowing all too well the scolding he'd get from his mother if he were to show up at the cottage covered in leaves and dirt.

Val followed his example, not wanting Bae's papa to think she was some urchin off the street—a charity case—like her papa always said, who aggravated him to no end. Val didn't want to do that, otherwise she might not be permitted to play over here again, and she loved the pleasant glade and the first real friend she'd ever had.

Bae walked quickly towards a small game trail which led to the edge of the village, saying loudly, "Papa, I'm over here!"

Soon a medium-sized man limped into view. He was slender with fine boned hands and a face that once Milah had thought handsome, but now couldn't seem to stand the sight of. He was young, only in his mid twenties, but the cane he used often led people to believe he was older. He had soft light brown hair that fell to his shoulders and sparkling brown eyes. At least they sparkled when he caught sight of his son, running along the path towards him. "There you are!" he said, somewhat relieved. "Where were you? You know I don't like you wandering all over these woods, Bae."

The little boy ran up and threw his arms about Rumple, saying, "I was fine, Papa. I fell asleep in my glade, that's all. I never go far, and it's right by the stream and the old hut."

Rumple hugged his son back. "Okay, but you stay close by here, I don't want you to get lost."

Val had hung back a little when Bae went running towards the strange man, who was dressed similarly to himself in brown leggings, a shirt, and an ivory pullover tunic with a simple belt and brown leather boots. Val thought their clothes reminded her of the people she'd seen in fairy tale books, the ones with knights and clever girls and wicked witches in them. She knew others would have found it odd, but to her it was like the characters had come to life off the pages, and it was wonderful.

She approached the pair hesitantly, biting her lip, like she did when she was afraid. She wasn't afraid . . . well, not very afraid, since from what she could see, Bae's papa was not big or loud and he seemed to be using a cane. She wondered why, and decided to ask him if she wasn't too afraid of him.

"Papa, I made a new friend," Bae said then, looking up at Rumple happily. "Her name's Val and she's right over there," he turned to point behind him.

"I'm glad to hear it, Bae," his papa said sincerely, for he knew that the boy had not had an easy time of it, given how some of the village lads teased him, and it saddened him to think his son had to bear the burden of his cowardice.

Rumple looked up and saw a little girl standing a few feet away, eyeing him cautiously. He was struck immediately by the expression in her great green eyes—hopeful yet wary—and the fine dress she was wearing, which though a little worn, was clearly of good quality. This was no peasant's child, he thought. This was a child of rich merchants, maybe even minor nobility, for no peasant could afford clothes like that, or shoes either.

He wondered where she had come from, for he knew of no nobles about here that had a small daughter, and certainly not one they'd allow to roam the forest at free will without even an attendant to watch over her. "Hello, dearie," he greeted her, holding out a hand for her to shake.

Val approached then, made less wary by the smile on the other's face. "Hi. I'm Valentina Morinelli, but you can just call me Val." She took the spinner's hand and shook it gently.

_Valentina Morinelli,_ Rumple thought. _Definitely not from around here._ "I'm Bae's papa, Rumplestiltskin. But you can just call me Rumple."

_Rumplestiltskin!_ Val thought, her eyes widening. _Like in the fairy tale! Only he's not some little man._ "Can you spin straw into gold?" she blurted before she could think better of it.

"Me? No, dearie, I cam spin wool, though, into the finest thread in seven kingdoms," Rumple chuckled, wondering where she'd come up with _that_? "Where are you from, Val?"

"From New York," she replied promptly.

"New York," he repeated, the name was unfamiliar to him. "Is that a city in another kingdom, dearie?"

"It's a great big city," she nodded. "In America. I thought everybody knew about it," Val said.

"I'm afraid not," Rumple shook his head. "Then again, we're a small village here on the edge of the Enchanted Forest. How did you get here? And where are your parents?"

"I went to hide from Marie Olson, she's a nasty girl who likes to pick on me and beat me up," Val told him. "I ran through some bushes in the park and I ended up here."

"She came through a glowing door, Papa, in the wall where the old hut was," Bae informed him.

"A glowing door?" Rumple repeated. "A magic portal?"

"Magic? Do you believe in magic?" asked Val, delighted to finally find an adult that didn't laugh at her and say magic was nonsense.

"Naturally, dearie. Magic is all around us, even if most of us can't use it," said Rumple.

"My papa doesn't believe in magic. Then again, he doesn't believe in a lot of things," Val sighed.

"And where is your papa?" queried Rumple.

"Where he always is. At work," she answered.

"And your mama?"

"Gone up to heaven when I was born," Val replied. "That's why Papa doesn't care about me. 'Cause it's my fault she left us."

Rumple frowned, thinking what a horrible thing it was for a father to blame his child for his wife dying in childbirth. He looked at the little girl, such a precious child, and felt a wash of sympathy for her. "No, that's not true. It wasn't your fault that your mother died."

"But . . . Papa said so," Val objected.

Rumple sighed. "He's wrong, Val. Sometimes . . . sometimes it's difficult for a mother to have a baby, and things go wrong. But it's never the fault of the baby that bad things happen, dearie. If your mother were here, she'd tell you the same thing. You shouldn't be blamed for your mama dying. It wasn't anything you could control."

"Mrs. DeLuca, she's a nice lady who watches me, she said my papa is just mad at the world, and that's why he doesn't appreciate me," Val recalled.

"I agree with that. Where's this lady who watches you now?"

"Talking with Mrs. Delaney on a bench in Central Park," Val answered. "She told me to go play, but I didn't have anyone to play with, since mean Marie doesn't count, until I found Bae and we played tag together and watched cloud shapes in the sky."

"And then we were tired and took a nap," Bae added. "But now we're kinda hungry, Papa."

"Oh, really?" his father smirked, then ruffled his son's hair. There was a mystery surrounding Valentina, but right then Rumple knew he wasn't going to solve it, and so he decided to play a proper host and invite the child home for some lunch. "Then let's go home and get something to eat, Bae. You too, Val."

Val grinned then, for that was what she had hoped for, to be invited to their house. "Thank you," she said, recalling the manners Mrs. DeLuca had taught her. "I really appreciate it."

"You're very welcome, dearie," Rumple said, his brown eyes twinkling. Then, with Bae on one side of him, and Val on the other, he made his way back to his cottage.

Val remained quiet for most of the way, drinking in the sights of the village, which had houses made of wood and thatch, like the ones in the movies about Robin Hood and Cinderella and Snow White. But then she glanced at Rumple, walking with his cane, and recalled her earlier question. Gathering her courage, she asked diffidently, "Umm . . . Rumple, sir . . . why are you using a cane? Did you hurt your leg?"

Rumple paused then. He'd gotten so used to people knowing he was a cripple that he was somewhat surprised by Valentina's question. "Yes, I did, Val. A long time ago, in the wars."

"Oh. So you're a . . ." she frowned hard, trying to recall the word Mrs. DeLuca used to describe the man in a wheelchair she'd seen at the bus station one day. " . . . a veteran," she said, recalling the word.

"Umm . . . well, yes . . . in a way . . ." the spinner said, smothering an amused laugh. _A veteran deserter,_ he thought, but did not say aloud.

"Does it hurt?" she asked, with a child's blunt curiosity.

"Not always. Only sometimes," he replied honestly.

Then they were at the cottage door, and Rumple opened it, gesturing for Bae and Valentina to precede him inside.

Bae ran right in, but Val hesitated, looking at the small house in utter fascination. The cottage was not very large, but it had whitewashed wooden walls and a golden thatched roof, as well as brown shutters on the windows and a pretty box hedge to the left of the door, which was painted a rather bright yellow. It was almost like a postcard, she thought, then she followed Bae inside.

The cottage on the inside was quite cozy, with a large central room with a fireplace inset with stone and a small mantle upon which was a clock and some childish figures, they were clay animals Bae had made for Rumple and Milah, and which Rumple proudly displayed there. Next to the hearth was Rumple's wheel, and several baskets of wool, and one of thread.

The floor was made of wood planks, though some of them were warped a little. A small rug made of cloth strips by Milah was on the floor before two rocking chairs and a little bench, which was where the little family sat in the evenings before bed. A crate that had once had held apples served as a table for Milah to put a mug of tea on or Rumple one of his bobbins. It also held a large oil lantern.

Behind the rocking chairs were a table and four chairs and in the corner was a wooden trunk, next to a cupboard where they stored everything from dishes to extra food, if they had any. Small bunches of herbs hung from the ceiling, and in the center of the table was a small earthenware jug with sunflowers, adding a touch of color to the somewhat drab room.

To the right of the mantle were four wooden hooks, three held cloaks, the fourth was for a guest. On the left was a ladder leading to the loft where they all slept.

Val sniffed, the air was a bit smoky and smelled of bacon, but was not unpleasant.

A large iron pot was hung over the fire, and some soup was slowly simmering.

Bae halted halfway to the table and turned to his father. "Where's Mama?"

"She went out walking for a bit," Rumple answered, which was something she almost always did after an argument with her husband, because she couldn't stand to be in the same room with him. "Sit down, Val."

While Val went to sit down next to Bae, Rumple limped over to the kettle of vegetable stew and gave it a stir. He had made it while Milah was gone, knowing someone had to get supper started. Then he went to the cupboard and took out three wooden plates, a loaf of brown bread, a jar of blackberry jam, a round of cheese he'd bartered for two days ago, and a small pitcher of apple cider and two tin cups.

He gave a plate to each child, and on it he placed two thick slices of bread, one with jam and one with cheese, and poured Val and Bae some cider. Bae had his own cup, which he placed on the table next to his plate.

After the two children had been served, he sat down at his place and cut himself his own slices of bread with cheese and one with jam, though his were half as thick as the children's.

They ate hungrily, and as Val bit into her slice of bread and cheese, she noted the cheese was kind of like Provolone, it was firm and tangy and sort of nutty, and the bread was almost like a whole grain wheat and was also quite good, with some seeds baked in it. The piece with the jam was deliciously sweet and Val could have easily eaten another slice with it, but she didn't want to ask for more because neither of her hosts were eating seconds. She had just drank a gulp of cider, which was tart and sweet and quenched her thirst nicely, when the door opened and a woman with dark curly hair wearing a reddish brown dress and brown boots came into the cottage.

Her eyes alighted on the three sitting at the table, and she stared rather rudely at the little girl, saying sharply, "Who's this, Rumple? We taking in strays now?"

Val shrank away into her chair at the sharp tone. She sensed instinctively that this woman was like her papa—hard and cold. The bread fell from her fingers onto the plate and she tucked her hands into her lap, becoming silent and still, like a mouse when a cat stalks it.

"She's not a stray, Mama," Bae spoke up then. "She's my new friend."

"I've not seen you around here before, girl," Milah said, coming over to peer at her across the table. "Who are you and where do you come from?"

But Valentina could not answer her, she was frozen with dread.

Rumple saw the slight trembling of the child's shoulders and said softly, "There's no need to interrogate the girl, Milah. Her name's Valentina Morinelli, and she's from the city of New York."

"New York? Never heard of it," Milah sniffed, then she said, "And what are you doing feeding her, Rumple, when we've hardly enough to feed ourselves?"

"You don't need to be stingy, Milah," Rumple reproved. "We've more than enough for a little child. It's not like she's a grown man that eats enough for six people."

Val quickly felt her appetite deserting her. "I'm sorry. Maybe I should . . . go now."

Rumple shook his head. "Nonsense, dearie. You stay right here and finish your lunch."

"Yeah, we don't waste food," Milah snapped.

Val felt her lower lip tremble and bit it hard to keep the tears at bay. Her father always hated it when she cried and she had a feeling Milah was just like him. She picked up her half-eaten slice of bread and jam and bit into it, but all her pleasure was gone, and she took forever to swallow the bite, for her throat had a lump in it.

Milah turned to examine the pot on the hob, and it was then that Bae squeezed her hand under the table and whispered, "Don't mind Mama. She's cross like that most days."

Rumple gently gave her back a pat and whispered in her opposite ear, "Don't listen to her, Val. You're always welcome here, and Milah's bark's worse than her bite. Usually."

Thus somewhat comforted, Val managed to finish her portion and washed it down with the rest of the cider.

Milah turned away from the stew, finding it starting to thicken, and her gaze lit again upon the small girl, now noting things she hadn't before in her annoyance at finding a stranger at her table. One of the things she noticed right off was that the girl was dressed in fine linen or something like it, for no peasant had cloth so smooth and fine, nor of that particular shade of pink, like a wildflower. Her hair was neatly combed, though it was starting to frizz slightly, and she had delicate features, like that of a noblewoman, or at least what Milah imagined one would have. And the girl's name—no one Milah knew had a high-toned name like that.

Perhaps she had been too hasty. Perhaps this girl could be useful to them, she mused, thinking hard. She was obviously upper class, and probably came from money. So instead of driving her away, she ought to cultivate the child.

Pasting a small smile on her face, she came back to the table, and said, "Forgive me . . . Valentina, is it? Such a lovely name! I'm sorry I was cross. I was just . . . surprised, that's all. We don't get many visitors here, you see."

Val looked up and nodded, saying quietly, "That's okay, ma'am. I was named after my grandma. She came from Florence and once we were . . . uh . . . dukes or something . . . a long time ago."

_Ha! I knew she was nobility!_ Milah thought, ecstatic. _Or at least she had blue blood in her veins. Probably her family had fallen on hard times, their estate confiscated or something. _"Oh, how sad!" she murmured, her voice all sweetness and light now. "And your family, what do they do now?"

"My papa is a manager for Macy's," answered Val, wondering at the sudden change in attitude.

"A merchant then," Milah nodded. She wondered what in hell Macy's was. Maybe it was a type of store. She'd heard that in the city, there were a lot of stores and storekeepers.

Just then the mantle clock struck three, and Val started, almost spilling her cider.

"Relax, dearie. That's just our old clock," Rumple soothed her. He eyed Milah speculatively. She changed moods quickly, but this was rapid even for her.

"It's getting late, Rumple," Milah said, her voice oozing with false charm. "Won't her folks be missing her?"

"Hmm. Milah's right, Val. Perhaps you'd better come along with me now," Rumple said, rising to his feet and going to grab his cane.

Val reluctantly got up, she was both eager and sad to leave. Eager because she would be away from Milah, and sad because she didn't want to return to Manhattan and her dreary old apartment, she'd much rather stay with Bae in New Jersey. But she was accustomed to obeying adult males, and so she walked over to the door after saying, "Bye, Bae! I'll try and come again tomorrow. And maybe I can bring you Twinkies to try."

When she heard that, Milah's heart gave a funny leap and she quickly followed the little girl to the door. Under the guise of hugging her, Milah hissed into Val's ear, "Listen up, my fine little lady. If you want to keep coming here and seeing Bae, you'd best bring us a few things in return. Like food. After all, we fed you, now it's your turn."

Val swallowed hard and just nodded. She could get food, they had plenty in the pantry at home. Surely her papa would never miss some Twinkies, bread, peanut butter, some cold roasted chicken, potato salad, and tomatoes. She could put it all into a small bag and take it with her tomorrow. That would make a good lunch.

Milah patted her on the head and withdrew just as Rumple came up to them.

Bae slid from his chair and trotted over, saying, "Come, Papa, I can show you my glade."

They all trooped out the door and down the path, while Milah silently congratulated herself on a deal well struck, better than any her husband had made of late.

When they reached the glade, Bae and Val crawled through the blackberry bushes to get inside, and Rumple waited on the other side, for he was too big to crawl anywhere, even if he had two good legs. He bid Val goodbye, assuring the girl that she could come by anytime.

Val gave him a small smile then waved once before crawling through the thicket.

Once she and Bae were on the other side, she faced the wall and said, "I hope that door's still there." She made her way over to the wall and touched it.

As soon as she did so, the blue doorway reappeared.

When Val looked hard at it, she could see the familiar skyline of Manhattan and right in front of her was Central Park. She hoped she hadn't worried Mrs. DeLuca too much. "Okay, I gotta go. See you tomorrow!" she said, then she stepped through the doorway.

In a blink she was back in Central Park, which didn't look any different from when she'd left. She glanced back at the bushes and was relieved to see nothing in them, so the door was safe. She had a feeling that when she wished to go back, the door would reappear.

But then she ran over to where Mrs. Deluca was sitting on a bench with her friend. "Mrs. DeLuca, I'm back!"

The middle-aged dark-haired housekeeper looked up and cried," Val, honey, you've hardly been gone half an hour."

"Oh! I . .. I forgot. It seemed much longer." Val smiled, barely able to keep from grinning. So time wasn't the same here. Val didn't know why that was, but it really didn't matter. What did matter was that she could spend a good portion of her day with her new friends, hours at least, and never be missed. It was wonderful!

Val spent the rest of the day in a kind of haze, dreaming about what she and Bae could do tomorrow. She didn't even mind that her papa wasn't home till late again and went to bed in her four poster with a purple eyelit quilt happily. It was the happiest she'd ever been in years.

"I made a new friend," she told Mrs. DeLuca as she snuggled into her quilt. "Down at Central Park."

"That's great, _bambina_!" said Mrs. DeLuca. "You need a friend your own age to play with."

"Uh huh. And tomorrow we're going to meet there again to play," Val told her, smiling.

"I'll bring you there," the housekeeper assured her, glad the child was finally making friends.

Val drifted off to sleep, a smile on her usually serious face.

Back at Rumple's cottage, Bae was sound asleep, a smile lighting his face as well, as he dreamed of playing many kinds of games with his new friend, hoping that she could come back again tomorrow.

Downstairs, Rumple was spinning, trying to make enough thread to sell at the market and Milah was putting bread dough to rise and smirking at her own cleverness.

Once she was finished, she went up into the loft to sleep, leaving her husband alone, as she so often did.

Soon the only sounds in the little cottage were the crackling hiss of the fire and Rumple's wheel humming as he spun, the wheel turning out several spools of thread deep into the night. As he spun, the motions so automatic that he could do it without thinking, Rumple was trying to figure out where New York was, wanting to solve the mystery of where the girl had come from. But he kept coming up blank, then he sighed and supposed he'd just have to be patient. Eventually he would figure it out.

After he'd spun about twenty spools of thread, he stopped and went upstairs to sleep, careful to sleep on the far side of the bed and not disturb Milah, who grew cross as a bear if he woke her by mistake during the night.


	3. A Suitcase of Surprises

**3**

**A Suitcase of Surprises**

_Val's apartment_

_Summer, 1992, Manhattan:_

Even though summer vacation had begun, and Val didn't need to get up early for school, she found she was wide awake at seven thirty in the morning and eager to get dressed and eat breakfast, so then Mrs. DeLuca would take her over to Central Park so she could go through the portal and meet Bae again. Being only six, and accepting as only a child could be, it didn't occur to Valentina to wonder how or why the portal was there, or how she could go through it. It was enough for her that it existed and she could go back and forth without trouble. Why and how didn't concern her. That it was magic was obvious, and even though she'd been told magic didn't exist, she was all too willing to believe in it.

Escaping into stories of princesses and knights, dragonslayers and magicians, with magical animals and daring rescues from monsters were the things that kept her from being so lonely she could curl up and die. She was a bright child with a quick mind, and her imagination had made her lonely life bearable. She could read, was in fact quite advanced in that department, reading at a third grade level, but she liked best when Mrs. DeLuca read to her, as it was something they both enjoyed.

She jumped out of bed and ran into the bathroom next to her room, quickly washing her face and brushing her teeth, then running back into her room to get dressed. Today she wore a denim skirt with striped green and pink stockings and a pretty green shirt with puffed sleeves and a heart-shaped collar. She grabbed green matching ribbons from her dresser and a brush, she would have Mrs. DeLuca do her hair after she ate breakfast. Then she put on her sneakers, that way if she was playing games with Bae, she could outrun him, since her sneakers were meant for running in, unlike her patent leather shoes.

But first she had to keep her promise to Milah, even though she didn't like the other woman much, and get her some food. So Val went down the hall to the kitchen and began to rummage through the pantry and the fridge. Her apartment was the penthouse suite, and so rather large as apartments went in Manhattan, as Mr. Morenelli had an excellent job as a store manager and he'd also come from wealthy parents.

Val had her head stuck in the fridge, trying to decide if she ought to bring slices of roasted chicken or roast beef, when Mrs. Deluca came into the kitchen.

Mary DeLuca was in her late forties, she was married to a man named Rich, who was a cab driver, and kept all kinds of crazy hours. Though she would have liked to have children, she couldn't conceive and so watching Val was the closest she would ever come to a child of her own. She had graying brown hair cut short over a pixie like face and wore casual jeans and a T-shirt with a Whitesnake logo on it. Mr. Morenelli had hired her to watch his daughter since she was a baby, and she was at the apartment almost seven days a week and he paid her a generous sum to look after his unwanted daughter.

It was Mrs. DeLuca's belief that if he could have, he'd have given poor Val up for adoption the week after the funeral. Only the fact that people would have talked and scorned him for such a thing kept him from doing so. But he had made it clear from the first that he wanted no part of the child who had stolen away his wife, and it didn't help that Val resembled her dead mother, April, so much.

Knowing this, and having no real fondness for her employer, whom she thought of as a cold selfish man, Mrs. DeLuca did her best to shower the little girl with loving attention, and loved the child as if she were her own daughter.

"What are you doing up so early, Val, honey?" she asked upon seeing the child in the kitchen. "You could sleep in, you don't have school."

"I know. But I just felt like getting out of bed," Val replied. Then she made a decision and pulled out the container of roasted chicken and three tomatoes and the container of Italian potato salad as well, which was  
made with olive oil, onions, spices, and tomatoes instead of mayonnaise.

"Val, what on earth are you doing?" asked Mrs. DeLuca, puzzled.

Val turned to look at her caregiver, and her facile mind thought up a plausible explanation quickly. "Umm . . . I'm getting food for a picnic. My new friend Bae and I are having one with his mom and dad and I said I'd bring some food, so that's what I'm doing. Now I'm going to get some Twinkies, peanut butter, and bread too."

Mrs. DeLuca raised an eyebrow. "That's quite a bit of food you're bringing."

"Well, I don't know what they like so . . ." Val shrugged, and ran over to the pantry in the wall next to the oven and tugged it open.

She returned a few moments later with a box of Twinkies, a jar of Jif, and a bag of Wonder bread. She set everything on the counter, then said, "Now what should I put it in?"

"I'd say a basket, but you don't have one big enough," Mrs. DeLuca laughed.

Val thought hard. "Okay . . . wait! I know! I'll get my suitcase. The blue one with wheels." She skipped back to her room and dragged the suitcase out from under her bed. She rarely had an opportunity to use it, since she hardly went anywhere away from home.

Once she came in with the suitcase, Mrs. DeLuca helped her pack all the food inside, and lined it with some dishcloths in case something leaked. "There! That should be good," said her caregiver. Then a thought struck her. "Val, are these people . . . sort of poor?"

"Umm . . . yeah, I guess," Val said, recalling Milah's comment about not having enough food.

"I see. Then how about I make an extra big meatloaf with peas and mashed potatoes for dinner tonight, and you can take some leftovers to them tomorrow, along with some of my coffee cake?" Mrs. DeLuca suggested. She never minded giving away food to charity, for she had gone hungry too once as the child of immigrants when they had first arrived in America and her papa had to struggle to find work and support a wife and six kids.

"Yes! That would be great, Mrs. D!" Val clapped her hands.

"Okay. I'll start mixing it now while you eat your breakfast and put it in a pan and then it'll be all ready for me to pop in the oven when we get back from the park," Mrs. DeLuca said.

Val turned on the small TV in the kitchen and watched cartoons while she ate some Fruit Loops and drank a glass of orange juice. She watched Wile Coyote chase the Road Runner while she wondered how Bae would like the Twinkies and peanut butter she would bring him. Those were some of her favorite foods and she hoped the little boy and his family would like them as much as she did.

Finally, Mrs. DeLuca was done making the meatloaf and she washed her hands and told Val to get ready to go to Central Park, which was only a few blocks from their apartment complex.

Val quickly shut off the TV and put her bowl, cup, and spoon in the dishwasher. Then she recalled her hair, and said, "Can you do my hair, Mrs. D?" She held out the ribbons and brush.

"Of course, _bambina,_" Mrs. DeLuca said, calling her "baby" in Italian, as she had since the day Val was placed in her arms as a squalling newborn. She had Val stand before her while she brushed and plaited the girl's pretty brunette hair into two braids, which she tied with the green ribbons. "There! You look pretty as a picture, my _bella_ Valentina."

Val smiled, for she knew that _bella_ meant beautiful in Italian, and Mrs. DeLuca was the one person who called her that. Val didn't think she was particularly pretty, even though she knew some people said she looked like her mother. Her mama was an angel, and far more beautiful than she was, the changeling child, as her papa sometimes called her.

"Now let's go, Mrs. D! Hurry!" Val said, and took the elder woman's hand and practically dragged her out of the apartment and to the elevator, the suitcase bumping along behind her.

**Page~*~*~*~*Break**

When Val came through the secret door into Fairy Tale Land, Baelfire was waiting anxiously in the glade for her. Like his new friend, the little boy had woken up at the crack of dawn, just after his mother had taken Rumple's thread and some preserves and bread she had made to sell at the market. He had jumped down the loft ladder rungs two at a time, landing on the floor with a loud thump.

"Bae! Did you fall?" Rumple called, concerned at hearing the noise his son made. He looked over from the fireplace, where he was cooking some porridge with honey and raisins, expecting to see his child on the floor.

Instead he saw the little imp grinning, his hair sticking up and one lace undone on his boot, with his tunic wrinkled. "I'm fine, Papa! I was just jumping."

Rumple sighed. "Bae, how many times have I told you not to jump down the ladder? You could fall and get hurt."

"But I was too excited to just climb down," Bae told him. "Val's coming back today and I gotta go meet her."

Rumple's heart warmed at the happy look in his son's eyes. "But first you need to wash up and comb your hair and eat some breakfast. You look like something that crawled out of my ragbag."

"Aww!" the little boy groaned. He didn't see what it mattered how he looked. But he went to the washstand and did as Rumple said, otherwise he knew his father would make him wait for breakfast until he was neat and clean.

"Okay, look!" he called to Rumple, showing the spinner his clean face and hands.

"Let me comb your hair," his father said, taking up a small boar bristle hairbrush and trying to make his son's curly unruly mop stay down. He finally resorted to some water to make it less frizzy. "Well, that's as good as I can get it. Go sit down."

Bae ran over to his seat and climbed on the chair. Rumple already had a cup of tea with mostly goat's milk in it for him to drink, and he sipped it while the porridge finished cooking.

Bae ate quickly, even though he liked Rumple's porridge, which he made better than Milah, who sometimes forgot to add honey.

"Slow down before you choke," his father reprimanded mildly.

"Can't. I don't wanna be late," Bae told Rumple, finishing up his bowl at top speed.

He would have jumped up and rushed out the door afterwards, but his father called him back.

"Hold it. You need to help do the dishes first. Then you can go to the glade."

Bae pouted. "But, Papa! What if she's already there waiting for me?"

"Then she'll wait. But I doubt she'd be here this early in the morning," Rumple said. "Dishes, Baelfire."

Heaving a sigh, the little boy brought his bowl and spoon over to wash basin, where Rumple had poured warmed water and shavings of soap, making a sudsy lather to wash the morning dishes in. Using a small sponge, Bae washed his bowl and spoon, then rinsed them in a second basin of fresh water, and handed them to his father to dry and put away in the cupboard.

"Good job, Bae! Thank you," Rumple said, wanting the boy to help do chores willingly, and figuring praising him for his efforts worked well.

Once the dishes were done, Rumple let Bae go to the glade, though he accompanied him and waited outside the thicket while Bae crawled through the bushes and waited.

"You came!" Bae exclaimed upon seeing the little girl again. "What's in there?"

"A surprise for you," Val said. "And for your mama and papa too." She wheeled the suitcase across the grass, shoving the handle to retract it and then pushing it through the thicket and following it afterwards.

"What's this?" asked Rumple as he caught sight of the blue suitcase.

"I brought some things from New York for you to try," Val said. "Like a picnic lunch."

"That sounds lovely, dearie," Rumple smiled at her. He reached for her hand to help her up from the ground.

"Ow!" she yelped as his hand closed over hers.

"What's the matter?" asked Bae, coming through the bushes a moment later.

Rumple had taken her hand in his and was peering at it. "Ah, you've got a pricker or two stuck in your hand, dearie."

Val started sniffling. "It hurts, Rumple!"

"I know it does. Blackberry bushes have nasty thorns," he said sympathetically.

"I did that a few times," Bae said softly. "But Papa always got them out."

"Come, dearie. Let's go back to the cottage and I'll take them out."

Val shivered. "Will it hurt?"

"Not much," the spinner soothed. "It'll hurt worse if you leave them there."

Bae picked up the suitcase and soon they had reached the cottage. "Mama's gone to market," he said as they entered the warm house, just in case Val was worried about seeing her again.

He put the suitcase on the table, while Rumple had Val sit at the table while he retrieved a pair of small tweezers and a pot of salve from the cupboard.

"All right, Val. I'll have those nasty things out in a blink," he said, gently taking her hand in his. "Now, relax, dearie. This might pinch just a bit, but stay still."

Val froze, remaining still as a statue while Rumple removed the prickers from her hand.

The operation took about thirty seconds, for Rumple was keen-eyed yet gentle, and had the three prickers out of her hand in short order. "There! All done. Now let me put some salve on and you'll be fine."

"It didn't hurt at all!" Val said, astonished.

Rumple smoothed some salve on her palm then said, "Didn't I say it wouldn't? Thank you for being such a good patient."

"You're a good doctor," Val said, and they both laughed.

"Come on, Val. Let's go play," Bae said, and they ran out the door into the bright sunshine.

Bae showed her the shed in the backyard where Rumple had his dyes and loom to weave and dye cloth. There was also Milah's vegetable and herb garden, and an old maple tree with a wooden swing in it.

The children took turns swinging on it, and Val taught Bae some funny rhyming songs as they did so.

Then she taught him how to play Simon Says, and soon the yard echoed with laughter as they took turns playing Simon and telling each other to do more and more ridiculous things, like making silly faces and hopping on one foot while croaking like a frog.

Then Bae spotted a rare black squirrel in the branches of an oak tree, and that led to a discussion of which one had seen the coolest wild animal. Bae won that one, because he lived near a forest, and the only wild animals Val had seen were pigeons, geese, and small birds.

After around two hours had passed, Rumple called them inside for lunch, eager to see just what was in that blue suitcase. The two children raced inside, and Rumple counted it lucky that Milah wasn't home then, for she hated noisy children. Not that Bae and Val were especially rowdy, but they were giggling and shoving each other a little as they washed their hands, and splashing water on the floor.

"Okay, now come over here, Val, and show us what's inside here," he called to the child.

Val ran over and said, "This is my blue suitcase, and look what I brought you." She unzipped it and opened it to show all the plastic containers and the jar of peanut butter, the bag of Wonder bread, and the box of Twinkies.

Rumple was fascinated with the colorful boxes and bags. He ran his fingers over them and marveled that the color didn't come off. "How are these made, dearie? I've never seen the like."

"I dunno. The people who make the Twinkies and peanut butter and bread make 'em."

"Is it with magic?" asked Bae, also touching the Jif label.

"No. But try some!" Val urged. She opened the package of bread and took out two slices. "This is Wonder bread. It's nice and soft and tastes great with Jif. That's the peanut butter here. You can put some jam on it too and make a sandwich."

"That's bread?" Bae repeated. "It's so soft!"

"Don't poke at it, boy," Rumple reproved. He got the jar of blackberry jam out again and handed it and a spreading knife to Val. "Show me how you make this sandwich with . . . peanut butter."

So Val spread Jif on one piece of bread and jam on the other and put them together. "There! A peanut butter and jam sandwich. Yum! It's one of my favorites."

"And what does Jif mean?" asked Rumple.

"It's like a kind of peanut butter. There's a few different ones, but this tastes the best," she assured him. Then she opened the box of Twinkies and pulled some out as well. "These are Twinkies. Little cakes with cream in the middle."

Rumple picked up one. "What's this . . . stuff around them?"

"Wrapping so they stay fresh. Just take it off before you eat it."

"I've never seen anything like this."

"It's plastic. Like my containers here. We make a lot of things with it in New York," Val declared, opening up the rest of the containers.

"Very interesting!" Rumple said, tapping a container. "This plastic . . . can be hard or soft. Someday I will have to visit this city and see what else your people make."

"Lots and lots of things," Val said. "Look, here's some roasted chicken and potato salad. Mrs. DeLuca made it, she cooks everything for me and my papa. And here are some tomatoes from her garden."

"Everything looks wonderful," Bae said happily, awed at the prospect of actually getting to eat something new.

Rumple got out plates and copying Val, made two more peanut butter and jam sandwiches for himself and Bae. He placed some chicken on each plate, then found a large spoon and put some potato salad on it also. He placed a wrapped Twinkie next to it, then brought cups and forks to the table and poured everyone some apple cider.

Bae picked up the sandwich and took a small bite. The most wonderful taste coated his tongue. He took a bigger bite, chewed, then said, "This sandwich is the best thing I've ever eaten! I love this—what did you call it again, Val?"

"Peanut butter. Isn't the best?" asked the little girl, eating her own sandwich. "I usually have Mrs. DeLuca make it for me everyday for lunch for school."

Rumple took a bite of his own, and found he also enjoyed it. "Mmm. This is excellent. I'd like to know how you make it."

"I dunno. We always get it from the store," Val said, having never thought about it before.

Bae finished his sandwich, then ate the chicken and salad, which was also very good, and afterwards he looked at the Twinkie and said, "How do you get this out of there?"

"Like this," Val showed him how to tear off the plastic wrap and take the cake from the cardboard backing. "Don't eat that, 'cause cardboard's disgusting. They put it there so the Twinkies don't get crushed."

Bae bit into the Twinkie and felt as if he'd died and gone to heaven. He sighed in bliss and said after another bite, "I could eat the whole box!"

"Me too!" Val giggled.

"Then there would be two very sorry children," Rumple remarked, still finishing his salad. "Because you'd both have terrible stomachaches from eating all that sugar and have to take some nasty medicine."

Neither Bae or Val had thought about _that. _

Before anything else could be said, the cottage door opened and Milah returned home for lunch.

"How'd it go so far today, dearie?" asked Rumple.

"Pretty good, actually," she replied. "I sold most of my preserves and have two loaves of bread left and about ten spools of thread." Then she spotted Valentina at the table, and said, "Hello, Valentina! And what is all this? It looks like a feast."

"Mama, you have to taste the peanut butter!" Bae enthused. "It's so good! And the Twinkies!"

Milah came over to the table, her eyes widening as she saw the bounty of food upon the table. She ran her hands over the containers. "What are these made from? They're not wood or pottery."

"Plastic," answered Valentina.

Milah mouthed the strange word to herself, then supposed it didn't really matter what they used to hold things wherever Valentina was from. What mattered was what was _in_ them. And what was there looked delectable. "What's this?" she asked, examining the jar of Jif.

"It's called peanut butter," Rumple told her. "And it's wonderful on bread with jam."

He took two more slices of Wonder bread out of the bag and made a sandwich for his wife. "Here. Try it."

Milah sniffed it, then tentatively took a bite and chewed. "It's kind of . . . odd. But . . . I think I like it." She took another bite and then another. Yes, the flavor certainly grew on you. "This bread is great. So soft! Who grinds your flour over there in the city, girl?"

"Huh?" Val was clueless, having never seen bread made before. "We just buy it at the store."

"Must be nice, having bread already made," Milah sniffed, then made herself another sandwich of chicken with tomato slices on it, and she ate some potato salad as well. She had to admit, this food was some of the best she'd eaten, and she congratulated herself yet again for making that deal with the little merchant's daughter.

"Try a Twinkie, Mama!" Bae urged. He pushed one of the small cakes over to her.

Milah picked it up, and would have bitten into the plastic wrap and Twinkie, but Val saw and cried, "No! You have to unwrap it first. You can't eat plastic. Well, maybe if you're a dog, you could, but it'd probably make you awful sick."

Milah frowned, trying to figure out how to undo the odd wrapping.

"Here, dearie," Rumple took it and unwrapped it for her. "Now try."

Milah ate it, and a look of surprise came over her face. "This . . . is actually good! Such texture! Such flavor! It must be the kind of flour you use over there, because my cakes have never tasted like this."

Rumple had to admit, the Twinkie was incredible, light, airy, and with just the right amount of sweetness. And he hadn't heard such praise out of Milah's mouth since before Bae was born.

"How many are in that box?" asked Bae, wondering if he could ask for seconds.

"Umm . . . usually it's ten," Val said. "So now there're six."

Bae looked over at Rumple. "Papa, can I have another one?"

"You may, but don't you want to save some for dessert tonight?"

"Umm . . ." Bae thought about it, then nodded. "Okay. I'll wait."

"Not me," Milah declared, and took another one from the white, blue, and red box. "Can you bring more of these, Val?"

"Uh huh. They're on sale at the store, so Mrs. DeLuca bought us lots of them," Val told her happily. She ate the rest of her Twinkie.

Once lunch was over, Milah put away the rest of the food for later in the cupboard, and then Bae and Val went to play some more in the yard before Rumple brought them back to the portal again and Val took the suitcase home with her.

**Page~*~*~*~Break**

The next day, Val brought Mrs. DeLuca's meatloaf, mashed potatoes, peas, and gravy along with another box of Twinkies. Everyone feasted upon the meatloaf and side dishes, which they heated up in the oven. There was even enough for dinner that night for Rumple and his family, since Mrs. DeLuca had given Val enough food for at least six people. Six people who ate like normal Americans, that is.

For the next four days, until the weekend, Val brought Bae and his parents food, which Mrs. DeLuca prepared. There was sausage and peppers with crusty Italian bread, a delicious lemon garlic wine chicken and rice, veal marsala with baked asparagus, and chicken parmesan with a side of spaghetti.

The family was amazed at the variety of food and yet, Rumple was puzzled over one thing. "Dearie, you don't have to bring us food every day," he told Val on Friday. "It's not that I don't appreciate it, but . . . we're not starving over here and feeding us and yourself must cost a pretty penny, hmm?"

"Uh . . . Mrs. DeLuca doesn't seem to mind," Val said nervously, for she was afraid if she stopped bringing the food Milah wouldn't let her come and play anymore.

"How about you bring us something new to try once a week?" Rumple suggested. "This way we don't overwork poor Mrs. DeLuca."

Reluctantly, Val nodded. She hoped Milah wouldn't be mad with the new arrangement.

After Val returned home that day, Rumple went and found Milah outside, hanging the wash on the line, and said, "Milah, may I speak with you a moment?"

"Go ahead," she replied, thinking that at least she hadn't had to cook dinner at all this week.

"Did you happen to hint to Valentina that we somehow needed food?" he queried shrewdly.

"Why? Haven't you been enjoying the food she's bringing?" Milah said defensively.

"Yes, of course I have, but this isn't right, Milah. That child can't keep feeding us forever."

"Her family's obviously rich, Rumple. And there's only her and her father, so why shouldn't we get something out of it? She's over here everyday." Milah tossed her head.

"She's Bae's friend. She doesn't need to . . . buy our approval," Rumple pointed out. "I don't feel right about this, Milah."

"Who asked you, Rumple?" she snorted, finishing hanging the sheets on the line.

Rumple shook his head. "I've asked her to only bring food once a week."

"What? How dare you ruin the deal I made?" Milah cried angrily.

"You'd have us dependant on a six-year-old child to feed us?" Rumple scowled. "Milah, we might not be rich, but I can support us just fine. We're nowhere near destitute."

"You're a fool, Rumple!" his wife growled, her eyes flashing. "This is a golden opportunity here, and there's nothing wrong with taking advantage of it."

Rumple just shook his head and turned away. He knew there was no reasoning with Milah with the mood she was in. When she got an idea in her head or her back up about something, she was more obstinate then ten mules. He just hoped she didn't pressure Valentina to bring food more than one day a week.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

The weekend seemed drag on forever at the Morenelli's apartment. Val's father was home, though he spent his days either on his laptop or closed in his room, and Valentina had strict orders not to disturb him.

Val read some fairytales, and made a puzzle, then watched TV. She decided to bring one of her puzzles on Monday for Bae and her to do, and maybe later she'd bring a game too.

But she missed being with Bae, and felt Monday couldn't come quickly enough. They ate leftovers Mrs. DeLuca had put in the fridge, which only required microwaving, and Val could do that easily. She ate her supper alone, though, because her papa refused to come out of his room even when she called him three times.

She picked at her spaghetti and meatballs, losing her appetite because it was dull and boring eating alone. Sometimes she felt as though she were a ghost, or that she didn't exist at all, the way her father treated her. She had thought she had gotten used to it, but then she had seen how Rumple was with his family, and it made her long all over again for her father to acknowledge her . . . just once, to look at her without scorn and disdain on his handsome face. She thought about how Rumple looked at Bae, as if he were the greatest thing on earth, and it made her feel like she must be as bad as her papa always said she was, because he never looked at her like that.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

On Monday, Val burst into the glade, starved for Bae's company, to discover it was raining over there, and she was quickly drenched as she stood in the middle of the glade waiting for him to arrive, holding her blue suitcase.

Finally, chilled and shivering, she decided to go and find him, and crawled through the thicket and onto the game trail that led to his house. Dripping wet, she came to the cottage and knocked on the door.

Bae opened it, and cried, "Papa, look, Val's here!"

Rumple limped over, his leg was hurting him quite a bit today, as it usually did in the rain, and he stared for a moment at the little girl before saying, "Come in here quickly, dearie, before you catch your death."

He ushered Val inside, then turned to Bae and said, "Baelfire, get her one of your shirts and a pair of leggings, she needs to get out of those wet things."

When Bae returned with his clothes, Rumple led Val to the bathroom, which was a small room with a wooden tub in it and a rather primitive toilet, plus a basin to wash with. "Here, dearie. Dry yourself with the towel in there and put on Bae's things. I'll hang up yours to dry while you're here."

Val did so, finding Bae's clothes a little large on her, and slightly scratchy, but they were better than being all wet and cold.

Rumple hung her clothes over a chair near the hearth, marveling at how the dye did not run even as soaked as they were. Then he said softly, "We have to be quiet, since Milah's upstairs with . . . err . . . a female complaint and she's resting."

"I can do that," said Val. She opened her suitcase and pulled out the puzzle she had brought. It was of a unicorn and a princess and a castle. "Look, we can do a puzzle."

"Neat!" Bae said.

Rumple cleared the table and they all sat down and separated the pieces and began trying to assemble them.

They had put almost the entire puzzle together when Rumple suggested making some tea and having some peanut butter and jam sandwiches.

This was met with cries of delight from the two children, and soon they were happily drinking tea and eating sandwiches.

Eating made Bae suddenly energized and he playfully poked Rumple in the ribs and said, teasingly, "Catch me if you can, slowpoke!"

Val looked over at him in horror, for calling her papa any kind of name or teasing him was just not done, and would have gotten her a quick backhand across the mouth.

But Rumple just raised an eyebrow and said, "Oh, you think I can't get you, boy? You'd better think again . . . because here comes the Tickle Monster!"

Then he lunged at his son, who couldn't quite move fast enough around the table, and caught him and started tickling the little boy, making him howl with laughter.

"No . . . Papa . . . I was kidding . . . ahh . . . hahaha!" Bae cried, succumbing to hysterical laughter as Rumple's fingers deftly tickled his ribs and the back of his neck, behind his knees and under his arms.

"Help . . . Val . . .!"

Val, greatly daring, darted over and gave the spinner a quick jab, saying, "I bet you can't catch me!"

"No?" Rumple queried mischievously, and he gave a pretend growl and went to grab her as well.

Val shrieked a little and danced backwards, but a chair tripped her up, and suddenly she was being tickled too, and collapsed into Rumple's arms, nearly prostrate with laughter. This was the first time any man had ever played with her like this, and Val was delighted at how nice it felt.

Rumple stalked them around the table, mock-growling threats of tickling them to death, and they scurried under the table, taunting him, until he grabbed Val's bare foot as she crawled beneath a chair and tickled it until she laughed hysterically.

"Mmm! You taste scrumptious!" the monster cried, running his fingers up and down her foot, and smirking.

Then Bae cried, "I'll save you, Val!" and ran and grabbed his father about the knees, crying, "Let her go, you great big . . . umm . . .thing!"

Rumple released Val's foot and turned to tickle Bae, his eyes twinkling, for he was having as much fun as the children, when Milah stomped down the ladder and snapped, "Just what in hell are you doing, Rumple?"

"Playing, dearie," he replied, tickling Bae.

Milah rolled her eyes. "Playing, he says! My gods, sometimes you act more like a child than a grown man!"

"Don't be a grouch, Milah," Rumple said, patting Bae on the head. "_You_ just don't know how to have fun."

"Humph!" she snorted. "I don't see anything fun in chasing about a bunch of brats. Now keep it down, I'm trying to rest here!" Then she stomped up the ladder.

"Sorry, Mama," Bae called after her. Then he looked at Val and said, "Maybe we'd better play something else."

"Let's finish the puzzle," she suggested, and that was what they did.

But she kept the memory of Rumple playing with her in her head that whole night, and it warmed her to the corners of her being.

**Page~*~*~*~*~*~Break**

The rain petered out late in the afternoon, and while Milah and Bae napped, Rumple went out to his shed and began to weave some cloth dyed a bright green to sell on Wednesday at the market. After two hours, he went to see if Milah had come down and started to prepare anything for dinner.

To his dismay he found nothing in the oven or simmering over the fire, and he sighed and resigned himself to having bread, cheese, and fruit or even peanut butter sandwiches for dinner. His stomach growling, he went to fetch a Twinkie from the box Val had brought, and found the box was missing.

"Oh, no!" he groaned, fearing that Bae had taken the box and proceeded to eat the seven that were left in it. "Great! That's all I need, a sick kid!"

He climbed up the loft ladder, wincing as he did so, for his lame leg was aching again like seven hells as a result of the rain earlier. He glanced around the loft, which was mostly a wide open space, with Bae's small bed and dresser on one side of the eaves, with the bed near the window, and a curtain dividing the space in half, giving the two adults a measure of privacy.

Rumple looked over at Bae's bed, expecting to see his son nursing a stomachache upon it, but to his shock, Bae was still asleep, curled upon his side, his coal black lashes brushing his fair cheek like the fluttering of raven's wing's.

The spinner smiled at his child, feeling a rush of overwhelming love as he gazed upon his son. There was no one in the world he loved more than Baelfire, and he could never comprehend the coldness that Milah sometimes showed him, anymore than he could the way Valentina's father acted towards her. He had loved Bae since the moment he held him in his arms upon returning from that ghastly battlefield, labeled a deserter and coward for choosing his family over dying on an ogre's spear. That love had only increased as the boy had grown older.

A sudden moan interrupted his musings and caused him to turn towards the other half of the loft, where a glimmer of a lantern shown through the curtain.

"Milah, dearie, are you awake?" he asked softly, limping over to the curtain.

"Rumple, get in here. I think I'm dying!"

Her husband pushed aside the curtain and came to stand beside their bed. "What's wrong? Are you sick?" he began, frowning.

"I just told you—you stupid oaf!" she snarled, very much like an ill-tempered she-badger. "I'm dying!"

He raised an eyebrow, for his wife was curled up on their bed amid the sheets, her dark curls plastered to her head, looking rather green about the mouth, her arms cradling her belly. "Do you have a fever?" he asked, bending down to feel her forehead. But it was cool to his touch. "If you have . . . err . . . cramps I can bring you a hot water bottle or some tea . . ."

Then his foot crunched on something near the bed. He glanced down . . . and saw his boot was on an empty plastic wrapper. "Huh?" He went to pick it up.

Then he saw other wrappers . . . shoved hastily beneath the bed . . . as well as a telltale cardboard box. He bit his lip to keep from laughing, then said slyly, "Does your stomach hurt, dearie?"

"What kind of stupid question is that?"

"The kind of stupid question I ought to be asking our son," he returned. "And you accuse _me_ of acting like a child, dearie, when you've eaten a whole box of Twinkies."

"Shut up, Rumple!" she growled, her face heating. "It's not . . . like you think."

"No? On the contrary, dearie, I think it's _exactly_ like I think," he purred, his eyes glinting in amusement. "You've stuffed yourself like a greedy pig and now you're paying for it."

"Ooohh!" she moaned. "Those damn things were poisoned or something!"

"I doubt that," her husband chuckled. "What you probably need is a dose or two of milkweed syrup," he said, referring to an herbal emetic used in case of poisonings.

"Get out!" she snapped. "Make me some dandelion tea, damn you!"

"I can't, dearie. Since someone forgot about supper, now I have to make it," he returned, with an irritating smirk. "So . . . come down and make it yourself. Moving around might help digest all that sugar, you know."

As he turned to go, Milah yelped, "Rumple! I'm your wife! You're supposed to take care of me. In sickness and in health, remember?"

"And I am, Milah. By getting dinner on the table," he replied. "But I never agreed to rescue you from your own juvenile behavior."

He began to climb back down the ladder, while Milah snarled, "Just you wait, Rumplestiltskin! You wretched imp!"

Her husband snickered softly as he went to get some eggs from the basket beside the door. He could make fried egg sandwiches with cheese for dinner, at least for himself and Bae, for he doubted if Milah would want anything for quite awhile after her little . . .indisposition!


	4. Village Brats

**4**

**Village Brats**

On Fridays Val brought a new dish for Rumple and his family to try, which was the best time for Mrs. DeLuca to cook something extra, since she could always tell Mr. Morenelli that she was making some more food to take home to Rich. But Mr. Morinelli was hardly ever home until late on Fridays and he wouldn't have noticed how much food Mrs. DeLuca made since he only ate what she left for him on a plate in the fridge, heating it up in the microwave and then going to his room to sleep or watch TV. He always arrived home promptly at nine thirty, which gave Mrs. DeLuca time to read Val stories before bed and tuck her in before she had to leave. She usually caught the bus home, or took a cab, since Mr. Morinelli paid her in cash most weeks.

About a week or two after Milah's rather embarrassing incident with the Twinkies, Val brought a suitcase with more peanut butter, Welch's grape jam, Wonder bread, a box of Funny Bones, and Mrs. DeLuca's chicken cordon bleu and some egg noodles with butter, parsley, and parmesan cheese as well as some carrots with butter and a bit of brown sugar.

But when she arrived in the glade, Bae looked rather upset.

"Hey, what's the matter?" she asked when she saw him.

"Nothing. Except it's Papa's turn to go to market today, so he's not home, but Mama is. And that means no playing anything loud or . . . or well, anything that bothers her. And almost _everything_ bothers her these days, she's so cranky."

"Why?" asked Val softly.

"I don't know. Yesterday she smacked me for making too much noise while she was kneading bread dough, and all I did was run across the room to get my wooden soldiers and horses. I was just getting them out of the trunk near the cupboard when she comes over and whacks me on the behind with her wooden spoon and yells at me for being a—a little hooligan." He grimaced slightly and gave his bottom a token rub with his hand. "That stupid wooden spoon really hurts!"

"I'm sorry she's so . . . mean to you," Val said sympathetically. "That's kind of like something my papa would do if I woke him up or he had one of his headaches. What did your papa say?"

Bae sighed. "I didn't tell him. It'll only make them quarrel again, and I hate it when they do that. Besides, what good will it do now?"

"Not much," Val said, thinking glumly that it wouldn't help if she told anyone about the things her papa did to her either, since he never hit her where anyone could see, like Mrs. DeLuca. "But wait till you see what I brought you today, Bae!"

He grinned at her. "Did you know that you rhymed?"

"Yeah, a little," she smiled back at him.

"Come on, let's go and show Mama what you've got in the suitcase. Maybe she'll be in a good mood today and not so cranky," Bae said hopefully. Milah was usually in a better mood when she was away from his papa.

Val and Bae crawled through the thicket after pushing the suitcase through it, then they ran as quickly as their small legs could carry them down the game trail to the cottage.

Milah was mending some socks and a pair of Bae's pants, and was rather annoyed because she knew her husband was better at this sort of thing than she was, but since he wasn't home, the task fell to her.

"Baelfire, you really need to be more careful with your clothes," she scolded as soon as her son walked in the door.

"Yes, Mama," he said automatically, even though it was hardly his fault that sometimes his clothes got ripped. Usually that only happened when he was running away from the bigger village boys, or one of them had knocked him in the dirt. But he knew better than to offer excuses to Milah. She never listened to his side of anything.

"Milah, see what I brought for you!" Val said, coming in as quick as she could to distract the other woman in case she was going to get mad at Bae again and smack him one. She dragged the suitcase into the cottage.

"Well, well. Right on time, aren't you, Val?" Milah said, using the kind of voice people tended to use on little babies or toddlers. "And what new things do you have for us to try this week?"

"Look!" Val heaved the suitcase up onto the table and unzipped it. Rumple was fascinated with the zipper on it and had said he would try and make something similar someday, but Milah could care less about it. All she cared about was what Val brought inside the suitcase.

Val unpacked the food inside. "See, here's some more peanut butter and bread."

"Good. We were running out," Milah said, peering over her shoulder.

"And these are Funny Bones, they're chocolate cakes with peanut butter inside them," Val said, handing her the box.

"Those sound even better than the Twinkies," Milah mused, licking her lips. "What else is in there?"

Val showed her the chicken cordon bleu, carrots, and pasta.

Milah looked happy. "Now I don't have to cook tonight, at least."

"Mama, I'm hungry," Bae said.

"Well, make yourself a sandwich," Milah told him brusquely. "I'm busy fixing the pair of pants you put holes in. I swear, you're worse than a puppy with the way you tear things, Baelfire. Money doesn't grow on trees."

"Okay, Mama," Bae said, retreating a little from the table, because if he wasn't in easy reach of her hand, she usually wouldn't cuff him. "Val, let's make some sandwiches."

"Okay. And then we can try the Funny Bones."

"But you'd better not eat them all, Baelfire," Milah ordered. "Otherwise you'll be spanked and sent to bed without supper."

Bae just nodded again. Then he got out a jam knife and began to make some sandwiches. He made four of them. One for him and Val, one for Milah, and one for Rumple.

He put them on plates and poured them all glasses of water to drink, since they had had run out of apple cider yesterday. He hoped that his papa had managed to trade for some at the market today. Then he opened the box of Funny Bones and put one beside each plate.

"I've got lunch ready, Mama," he called.

Milah stuck the needle into the shirt she was now mending and set it down on her sewing box. Then she came over to the table and sat down. The clock on the mantle dinged out the noon hour. "Where's that father of yours?" she asked, somewhat crossly.

"Maybe he's making some good deals today at the market," Bae said hopefully.

"Sure. Or maybe he's just talking to people again and being lazy," Milah sneered.

Bae bit his lip to keep from answering her back and risking another whack with her spoon. He hated it when his mama talked like that about his papa, as if he couldn't do anything right. Then again, his mother thought Bae couldn't do anything right either, most times. He sighed softly and picked up his sandwich and began to eat it.

Val saw the sad look in her friend's eyes and she squeezed his hand under the table. She wished she dared tell Milah that Rumple was a good father, better than her own, at any rate. But she didn't dare. Not if she wanted to keep visiting them. Milah's kind didn't like anyone contradicting them, especially not an impudent brat, like her papa always said she was.

They had all finished their sandwiches and were starting to eat the Funny Bones, which were delicious, with Rumple's sandwich sitting untouched on its plate, when Milah muttered something about lazy people again and said to Baelfire, "Go and see what's keeping your father, Bae. He usually remembers to come home for lunch, unless he's jawing with someone again."

"Okay, Mama," Bae agreed, rising from his chair, and taking the remainder of his Funny Bone with him. "Come on, Val. Now you can see the village."

"Not that there's much to see," Milah snorted. She licked chocolate off her fingers as the children headed out the door. Then she snatched up the Funny Bone beside Rumple's plate and ate it. "You snooze you lose, Rumple."

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Val trotted beside Bae as he walked down the small beaten track to the village proper. Their cottage was one of the last ones on the edge of the village, since no one really wanted to be next the village coward and his family, so Bae had to walk about ten minutes before they hit the main street, and then another five to reach the village green where the market was set up.

Today Val was wearing a green dress with a Peter Pan collar and brown sandals with ankle socks. She had a matching green ribbon in her hair, and some of it was pulled back, though most of the long brown mass was left to fall down her back. She ate the last of her Funny Bone as she followed Bae, looking at all the houses they passed.

Smoke rose into the air as they went past the blacksmith's, with its glowing forge, and then they passed several more establishments, like a green grocer's, which sold produce, and a chandler's, which sold candles of all kinds and also oil lamps. There was also the tanner's, and Bae and Val wrinkled their nose at the acrid stench as they passed the long low wooden building.

Some chickens clucked and pecked the ground in front of them, and a dog barked as they went past a house with blue shutters on it.

People waved to each other and called out hello as they walked by, and some stared at Bae and Val, since Val was a stranger to them, and a well-dressed stranger at that.

They had almost reached the market when three boys suddenly ran out from behind an alley and into their path.

They were bigger than Bae and Val, around eight, and two of them were brothers, stocky with blond hair and buckteeth, freckles and watery blue eyes. The third was skinny and had a turned up nose and all of them were wearing similar clothes, tan leggings, shoes, white shirts and leather vests.

"Well, looky here, lads," brayed the skinny one, spitting as he talked, for he had two front teeth missing. "If it isn't the coward's son. Got yourself a lady friend, Bayberry?"

Bae looked up and groaned. It was the Thatcher boys, Benny and Marty, and their friend, Ernie Cokes, whose father was a forester. They were his chief tormentors, besides the Tanner brothers. "My name's not Bayberry, Ernie. It's Baelfire."

"Where you going, _Bayberry_?" sneered Benny. "Off to fetch your crippled papa back home?"

"And who's this?" demanded his brother. "Well, girl? Speak up! What're you doing hanging round the coward's son, huh?"

"You shut your face, horse lips!" Val ordered, suddenly finding a well of courage she had never known she possessed. "It's Miss Morinelli to _you_, and quit calling Rumple a coward!"

"Who do you think you are, some fancy pants noble?" asked Ernie. "We'll call Rumple a coward if we want to—it's true!"

"Just ignore them, Val," whispered Bae in her ear.

But Val was done with ignoring insults to her friends. She gave the three boys her snootiest Marie Olson glare and said, "I can't believe you three ever got out of third grade, you're so stupid! It must be bad blood, that's it."

"Huh? What's she talkin' about?" asked Marty, scratching his head.

"You're the one who's stupid, girl, hanging around the poor coward's son!" sneered Ernie, who was a bit swifter on the uptake than his companions.

"Oh yeah?" Val glared at them. "Well . . . yo mama's so ugly that when she looks in a mirror her reflection ducks!"

"You callin' my mama ugly?" Ernie growled, clenching a fist.

"I think that's what she said," said Benny. "And something about a mirror."

"Well, yours is so dumb she can't spell her own name!" Marty snapped.

"Marty, you can't even read!" Bae cried. "Much less spell _your_ name."

"So what, Bayberry?" said Benny. "You wanna knuckle sandwich?"

"_You're_ the one who's a coward, picking on little kids," Val yelled. "And your mama's so poor she goes to KFC to lick other people's fingers!"

Now any kid from New York would have gotten that insult in a New York minute, but Val forgot she wasn't dealing with kids from her neighborhood.

The three boys stood there, looking puzzled.

"What's KFC?" asked Marty.

"I dunno," his brother replied.

"Come on, Bae," whispered Val. "Let's go find your papa quick."

They tried to run around the three bullies, but Benny stuck out a foot and tripped Bae.

As he landed hard on his hands and knees in the street, the boys jeered at him and cried, "Let's see you walk, cripple! Bock! Bock! Chicken-livered little coward!"

Bae scrambled to his feet and tried to hit one of them, but Ernie ducked and flapped his arms, making chicken noises.

Marty yelped as Val's shoe connected with his shin. "Oww! Benny, the little witch kicked me!"

"Crybaby!" Val screeched. "Yo mama's like a mailbox, open and shut all day!"

Bae turned then and grabbed Val's hand. "Run, Val!"

"Where?"

"This way!" Bae cried, and they ran just as the three boys went to grab them.

As they ran back down the street towards an old oak tree Bae knew of, he asked, "Where'd you learn all those things to say to them anyway?"

"Marie Olson. She yells insults at me every day at recess," Val panted. "So at least she's good for something."

"Get back here!" bellowed Ernie. "I'm gonna make you eat dirt, you yellow dog! And your witch friend too!"

Bae ran faster, knowing that wasn't an idle threat.

Val sprinted alongside him, wishing she'd worn her sneakers. She glanced behind her and saw the three boys, all of whom had longer legs, were gaining on them. "Bae's no coward, you big dumb ox! And your mama was a snowblower!"

"What's a snowblower?" Bae asked as they ran.

"A machine that blows snow all over. I got that from Short Circuit," Val said, panting. "I don't know why that's insulting, but Mrs. DeLuca said she'd wash out my mouth if I said it."

"Hurry, Val! If they catch us, they really will make us eat dirt," Bae said, glancing back and seeing the boys were a mere few feet behind them.

Finally they reached the old oak, and Bae scurried up into the branches, grabbing Val's hand as he did so, pulling her up after him. Together the two climbed up as high as they could, perching like two owls in the oak tree.

"Aww! They've done climbed a tree, Benny!" Marty groaned. "Now how we gonna get them?"

"Yeah, the branches won't hold us," Ernie spat. "Chickens!"

"Then we just wait till they come down," Benny growled. "They gotta sometime, and when they do . . . we'll be waiting! Right, boys?"

The other two muttered affirmatives, clenching their fists and glaring up at the two children.

"Uh oh. Now what?" Val asked Bae nervously. "We can't stay up here forever, Bae. I drank all that water at lunch. What if . . . I have to go potty?"

"Uh . . . just don't think about that right now," Bae whispered back. But he had to admit the situation looked grim.

They remained in the tree, holding easily to the branches, praying the older boys would grow tired of waiting and go away.

But minutes ticked by and none of the three seemed to be going anywhere. Just when it looked like Val and Bae would be stuck in the tree all afternoon, they heard some familiar footsteps coming along the trail.

"What's going on here?" demanded Rumple. He was returning from the market, having sold the last of his thread and some blankets he'd woven, his pockets jingling with coins and a few other odds and ends he'd bartered for. He was hungry and for once his leg wasn't aching, enabling him to walk almost normally on it.

"Papa! We're up here!" Bae called.

The three boys backed away as Rumple came up to them.

The spinner caught sight of Val and Bae in the tree and the three boys below it and asked, in a deceptively soft voice, "One more time, boys. And one of you better answer me. What's going on here?"

"Nothing! We was just playing is all," Ernie blustered.

"Yeah. What he said," Benny agreed.

"They chased us up a tree!" Val yelled.

"Liar! We did not!" Marty cried.

"Did too!" Val cried. "Liar! Liar! Pants on fire!"

Rumple looked slowly at the three boys and said, "If you are lying to me, you're going to be very sorry."

Marty and Benny looked suddenly alarmed.

Ernie tried to bluff it out, saying, "I ain't afraid of no coward cripple!"

Then he yelped as Bae hit him in the head with an acorn.

Rumple walked towards the three, giving them his sternest glower. "Get, you troublemakers! I may be a cripple but I can still give you the thrashing your mothers ought to have." He gripped his cane menacingly.

"No! Don't tell our mama!" whimpered Marty, then he bolted off.

"Let's get outta here!" Benny cried, and followed his brother.

Ernie hesitated a moment more, then he too turned and ran.

Like most bullies, they were brave in a pack, when facing those smaller and weaker than they were, but give them an opponent who was older and bigger and they tucked their tails between their legs and ran.

"Now who's a coward?" Val yelled.

"Dog breath!" Bae hooted.

"Okay, come down from there," Rumple said, leaning on his cane. He was just glad his threats had worked.

Bae and Val scrambled down from the tree, and once they were on the ground, they ran to Rumple and hugged him.

"You really scared them good, Papa!" Bae said, his eyes shining.

"Yeah, I bet they're running to hide in the closet," Val added. "You're a real hero."

Rumple hugged them back, thinking sadly that if he hadn't ruined his own reputation, his son and his friend wouldn't have to climb trees to escape bullies. Nevertheless the two children's regard caused a warm fuzzy glow in his chest. At least two people thought he was worth something, even if they were only six.

"Come on, you two. That last deal I made with Arnie Smith made me late, your mama's probably spitting at how late I am for lunch, right, Bae?"

"Uh, she did send us to find you," Bae admitted.

"And we made you a sandwich," Val said, taking the spinner's hand. "And I brought you a Funny Bone to try."

"What's that, dearie?"

"It's a chocolate cake with peanut butter cream in the middle."

"Sounds delicious," Rumple said, and together he and the two children hurried back to the cottage.

**A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who has reviewed and favorited and followed this fic. I hope you're enjoying reading it as much as I am writing it! Who thought Val's jokes were funny? And what do you think Milah will say to Rumple when he sees that his Funny Bone is missing?**


	5. Red Spots

5

Red Spots

When the two children and Rumple arrived home, Milah was sitting in her rocking chair, sewing a button on Rumple's shirt, and drinking a cup of tea. "So, you're finally home," she said, her lip curling. "What took you so long?"

"I got a good deal from Arnie Smith for two of my blankets," Rumple answered. "Now quit frowning, or else your face will freeze that way, dearie."

"Be quiet, Rumple! You sound like my mother," Milah groused.

"Pity she didn't teach you not to be such a grouch," he retorted, then limped over to the table where his sandwich was.

Bae and Val followed, anxious to see what Rumple thought of the Funny Bone. Then Bae noticed it was missing. "Hey, where is it?"

"Where's what, Bae?" Rumple asked.

"Your treat. The Funny Bone. We left it right on the table."

"Maybe it fell on the floor?" Val speculated and looked under the table.

"Actually . . . it did," Milah said, sounding apologetic. "And I . . . uh . . . stepped on it by mistake."

"Oh, no!" Bae groaned.

Rumple snorted, thinking that explanation had as many holes as a sieve. He knew his wife and her fondness for the treats Val brought. She had probably eaten it, the greedy pig. Of course, he couldn't prove it. "Oh, well. I'll try it next time, Bae," he said, sitting down. At least he still had a sandwich to eat.

"Wait! There's more in the box!" Val cried, and picked up the box inside the cupboard and pulled another one out. "Here you go, Rumple. There's usually six in here, and now there's one left. I shoulda brought more with me. Next time I will."

"This is fine, dearie. Thank you." He took the Funny Bone and put it next to his plate. "I'm sure it'll taste wonderful, like all the food you bring us."

"Hey, Bae. Wanna play a game I brought? It's called Connect Four," Val said brightly. She ran and got it out of her suitcase.

"Sure. How do you play it?" Bae asked, examining the plastic board and black and red chips curiously.

"You gotta get four checkers in a row, all of one color," Val explained. "Then you win."

"That sounds kinda easy."

"It's not. Trust me. Because the other player can block you," Val said.

They spent the better part of an hour playing, and sometimes Bae won and sometimes Val did, until they got bored and Bae suggested they go and collect leaves and tiny rocks and make a picture with them.

"And we can see if there are any cool bugs too," he told the little girl.

"I like ladybugs," she said. "But no spiders! Ugh! I'm scared of them."

"And no bringing any bug into the house either," Milah lectured. "Otherwise you'll go to bed without supper, clear?"

"Yes, Mama. I know," her son said, with the air of someone who has heard that saying for the thousandth time.

"Watch that tone when you talk to me, young man," she snapped.

"Oh, leave the boy be, Milah!" Rumple spoke up from the table, where he'd been counting his money and putting it in their metal cashbox. "Nag, nag, let the kid _alone_! You're like a fusty old woman—don't do this and don't do that. Anybody would think you were fifty and not twenty-five. Children were meant to play and have fun, let him enjoy his childhood."

"And _you_ act like you're five, Rumplestiltskin! The boy needs discipline!" his wife growled.

"Your kind of discipline would make me want to run away from home," her husband snorted. "If all you do is harp on whatever he did wrong, he'll never think he does anything right."

Milah bristled. "Are you saying I'm not a good mother, you lily-livered—"

"I'm saying you're a pain in the ass!" Rumple snapped. "Or is there something wrong with your ears, huh?"

Val was frozen beside Bae, her eyes wide. She had never heard Rumple get angry before, and it scared her, reminding her of her papa.

Bae sighed and grabbed his friend's hand. "Come on, let's get out of here. This could go on all day." He pulled Val out the door, and only when they were halfway down the game trail did he notice how quiet she was. "Hey, it's okay. They fight like that all the time."

"He . . . he was yelling at her," Val whispered, her green eyes huge in her pale face.

"Yeah, but he hardly ever does. I think sometimes she really gets on his nerves. But you don't have to be afraid, Val." He patted the little girl's shoulder.

"Sometimes . . . when my papa yells, he . . . he hits me," she hissed, blinking away tears.

Bae flinched. "Mine would never do that. He's never hit Mama. But she's thrown stuff at him. She can be really nasty when she's mad. That's why I leave. Come on, let's look for some leaves. I saw a real pretty silver maple over here."

Val allowed herself to be led over to a tall maple tree, and soon forgot about being afraid as they found several pretty leaves that sparkled when the sun hit them, and small chips of golden colored rock near the stream in the glade.

Then Bae found a fuzzy caterpillar, and let it crawl on his arm. "It tickles! Here, Val."

He put it on her arm and she giggled as it inched its way down to her hand.

After half-an-hour they had collected enough and Bae said they should head back to the cottage.

A little apprehensive, Val did so, but she found all was quiet now. Rumple was spinning and Milah was out walking, and the tension within the small house was gone. She heaved a silent sigh of relief and began to draw a border on the piece of paper Bae gave her. It took about fifteen minutes for her to arrange her leaves and rocks in pretty patterns and glue them down with a brush and some glue.

"You'll have to leave it here to dry, Val," said Bae. "You can pick it up tomorrow. It looks real good."

"So does yours," she said.

"When that dries, Bae, I'll put it up on the wall in my shed," Rumple told him. "It'll give me something to look at when I weave late at night."

Val smiled wistfully. "Maybe you can have mine too, Rumple. I'd give it to my papa, but he'd just throw it out, since he doesn't want anything I make."

"Thank you, Val," Rumple murmured, his heart breaking for the poor unloved child. "Your father's an idiot, for he's missing out on the best treasure there is—his talented daughter. I'm sorry you had to see that earlier. Sometimes Milah's . . . well . . . difficult to get along with, I'm afraid."

"Sometimes she's impossible," Bae said softly.

"Like my papa," Val said. "I'd better get going. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Come, Val. We'll walk you out," said Rumple.

They saw Val through the portal as always, then father and son turned to walk back to the cottage.

Rumple put his arm around Bae and the two walked slowly down the trail. The two were quiet, treasuring the time alone together, until Rumple said, "I'm sorry, son, that I can't . . . make your mother stop harping at you. But she's so . . . stubborn and . . . temperamental . . . half the time it's all I can do to keep the peace in our house . . ."

"I know. Mama's like a crab. She snaps and pinches at everybody. But I wish she'd leave you alone, Papa. I hate it when she calls you names."

Rumple gave the boy's shoulders a squeeze. "Oh, Bae. I learned a long time ago to let what she said roll off me, like water off a duck's back. She's full of noise and wind, and what she calls me doesn't bother me anymore, because I know she's doing it out of spite. And if she wants to think of me as a coward, then I'll let her, because I know the truth. I came back for you, Bae. I came back for my family, not because I was afraid to fight. But I didn't see any advantage in me dying for some fat idiot in a castle when I had a family who needed me. My family comes first, and that will never change, no matter who calls me a coward. Can you understand that, son?"

Bae nodded. "Yes. I've always known that was a lie, Papa. And I'm glad you came home. I'd rather have a live papa than a dead one any day. And Mama ought to know better."

"Yes, she should. Maybe someday she'll realize that."

Bae hoped that day would come soon. But until then he'd just have to put up with her.

**Page~*~*~*~*~*~Break**

The next morning, Milah called Bae to come down for breakfast and got no response. Scowling, she looked up the ladder, and growled, "Baelfire, if you don't get your behind down here this minute, you'll not get anything, do you hear me? Now get up, you lazy little slug!"

Rumple came in from getting some water from the well in the yard and heard his wife shouting. "Land's sake, Milah! Can't you ever just talk to the boy, instead of screeching like a harpy?"

"I wouldn't have to scream if he'd come down here and eat breakfast like a normal person," she replied. "He's gotten so lazy and . . . and defiant . . . and you don't see it because he's not like that with you . . ."

"Gee, I wonder why," Rumple said sarcastically.

"Because you let him get away with everything," she began.

"Everything meaning I let him play after chores and be a kid, instead of some wind-up perfect little toy?" Rumple queried, his tone suddenly sharp and biting. "Let me go check on him. Go ahead and eat, don't let us keep you."

He began to climb the ladder, calling softly, "Bae, dearie, are you okay?"

Milah made a face at him behind his back and turned to pull the last pancake off the griddle, muttering, "Damn pansy-ass! Am I the only one who knows how to discipline around here?"

Ignoring his wife's muttering, Rumple climbed the ladder and found his son still lying in bed. "Bae, what's wrong?"

The little boy's eyes fluttered open. "Papa, I don't feel good."

"What hurts, dearie?" Rumple asked gently.

"I'm all hot and . . . and achy and . . . my tummy feels funny."

Rumple felt his son's forehead. "You have a fever, son. I'll get you some water and a little chamomile tea. How funny does your tummy feel? Like you're about to throw up?"

"No . . . just . . . it hurts a little. I don't wanna eat breakfast, Papa. M'sleepy."

"Okay, you just rest while I bring up your water and tea," Rumple said, rearranging the covers over his son and stroking the curly dark hair, which was slightly damp.

He climbed back down the ladder, saying to his wife, who had begun eating, "He's running a fever and he's achy and his stomach feels funny, that's why he didn't come down for breakfast."

Milah pursed her lips. "And he couldn't have told me that?"

"You never even asked if anything was wrong," Rumple shot back. "Your first response is to accuse."

Her eyes flashed. "Don't start with me, Rumple. What do you think he's got? Something contagious?"

"Probably a simple virus or something. I'm going to bring him up a cup of water and some chamomile tea." He moved about, putting on the kettle to boil and measuring out some chamomile from the tea tin on the shelf in the cupboard. He filled Bae's little cup with fresh water and dampened a towel as well to put on his face and neck.

He climbed up the ladder again to put the wet cloth on Bae's head and place the water beside him on the little crate that served as a nightstand. Then he went back down to get the tea, adding a little honey to it for taste and stirring it vigorously.

When he returned, Bae was half-asleep. He gently shook the boy, saying, "Come on, Bae. Wake up a little and drink some tea for me, there's my good lad."

He managed to get the child to swallow about six spoonfulls before Bae refused and whined that he was tired. Rumple let him rest then, after running the wet cloth about his face and neck. He prayed the fever wouldn't go any higher, because Bae hated taking the willowbark tea that was the one surefire remedy for fevers.

Finally, Rumple sat down to eat his own breakfast, and after finishing his now cold pancakes with some bacon and a rather lukewarm cup of coffee, he went to spin more thread.

While he did that, Milah went out to gather some vegetables from the garden, and make some soup for them to eat, along with the rest of the Wonder bread and some butter she had churned the day before after bartering for some milk from the Peverells, who owned two cows down the way.

Just before eleven, Rumple halted his work, having spun about twelve spools of thread, and as he got up and stretched, he recalled Val would be coming over soon. With Bae sick, no one would be there to meet her, he thought. "Milah, I'm going to meet Val and tell her not to come today," he called out to her, she was in the kitchen, sweeping the floor. "Listen in case Bae calls, okay?"

Milah muttered something noncommittal and Rumple went outside, seeing with regret that it was a lovely day, with brilliant sunshine and warm weather.

He met Val just outside the glade, and told her regretfully that Bae was sick and couldn't play with her today. "I'm sorry, dearie, but you can't stay either, I don't want you catching it."

"Do you—do you think he'll be able to play tomorrow?" Val asked, looking as if her best friend had died.

"We'll have to see, dearie. Maybe it'd be best if you . . . stayed home tomorrow too. By Friday he should be well and you can see him, okay?" He hugged the little girl to him.

Val hugged him tight, she wanted so much to just stay here, but she knew it was useless. "Okay. I'll . . . I'll make him a card and maybe it'll cheer him up."

"You do that, Val. That will make him feel a lot better," Rumple told her. He kissed her forehead and said, "Goodbye, little one. We'll see you again on Friday."

Val waved forlornly before going back through the thicket. As she slipped through the portal again, she thought of something. Maybe she could bring Bae some medicine to help him get well faster. Like children's Tylenol.

She ran over to where Mrs. DeLuca was reading on the park bench and told her what had happened.

"Oh, that's too bad, Val, honey. Maybe we'll make cookies for him."

"Chocolate chip?" Val asked. "That'll be good."

"And after we can go to the library," the older woman suggested. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Yes. I can get some new books then. And I'll read while Bae gets better," Val said, trying to mask her disappointment. But a trip to the library and baking cookies was better than just moping about in the apartment.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

_Fairy Tale Land:_

Rumple returned to his cottage to hear Milah yelling and Bae whimpering and crying, "I'm really sorry, Mama!"

Limping as swiftly as he could, he reached the ladder to the loft, his temper simmering. "Damn the woman! What in hell is wrong with her?"

He climbed the ladder, Milah's voice shrill and audible, carrying clearly through the small house.

" . . .now you made an unholy mess all over the floor, Baelfire! What are you, a puppy? Look at this! Disgusting!"

Rumple quickly pulled himself into the loft, calling, "What's happened?"

Milah was standing to one side of Bae's bed, glaring at her son, who was cringing and sobbing, his nightshirt wet and sticky with vomit, while a puddle pooled on the floor beside his feet.

"Rumple, look what the brat's done now! Thrown up all over like a damn dog! Absolutely disgusting! Now I have to clean that up besides—"

"Milah, quit yelling," Rumple ordered. "The kid's sick, give him a break dammit! Go, get downstairs and I'll clean this up."

"You're acting like it's my fault . . ."

"It's nobody's fault, but it wouldn't kill you to show a bit of compassion, it's not like he did it on purpose!"

"M'sorry . . . Mama . . . I . . . I didn't mean to . . .!"

Rumple made his way over to his son, murmuring, "Shh . . . it's okay, Bae. Don't cry . . . you'll make yourself worse . . .this is nothing a little water can't fix . . ." He glared at Milah. "Go on, get out of here! I told you, I'll handle it."

"Fine!" she said, and stomped down the ladder, glad to be away from her whiny son and the smell of vomit.

Rumple gently sponged Bae's face with a wet towel dunked in a basin of water he'd brought up earlier, saying, "Okay, son, stop crying. You're not in trouble."

"M-Mama said . . . I . . . w-was a dis-gusting little b-beast!" Bae hiccupped, tears falling down his cheeks. "I . . . t-tried to t-tell her I w-was gonna be sick, b-but . . ."

"I understand. Don't worry about it. Your mother needs her head examined," Rumple said shortly. "Don't listen to what she says either. I'd like to see _her_ keep from throwing up all over when _she's_ sick. Here, let me get you another shirt."

He went over to the chest of drawers at the foot of the bed and pulled out a clean nightshirt and underwear. He laid them on the bed and gently removed the soiled clothing and helped his son into the clean ones. "There! Now you sit here and hold this," he handed his son the partially full basin of water and sat him on the edge of the bed. "If you feel like you're going to be sick again, try and do it over this, okay?"

"Uh huh," the little boy sniffled. He felt awful, all hot, achy, and his back was itchy. He also felt ashamed that he'd thrown up all over, despite Rumple's words to forget about it.

"Okay, I'm going to go and get a bucket and some rags to clean this up. Be right back."

It took about ten minutes to clean up the mess with some water, soap, and lemon juice, and by the time he was done, Rumple's leg was aching. He stood up and rubbed it, shoving the bucket into a corner. Then he looked at his son. "Do you still feel sick, dearie?"

"N-No. But I'm itchy, Papa. Can you scratch my back?"

"Certainly," Rumple said, then he sat down and gently scratched up and down Bae's back.

Bae wriggled. "Harder, Papa. It really itches."

"All right, stay still," his father ordered, applying a bit more pressure. "How's that?"

Bae squirmed, whining, "Papa, I'm still itchy. And now my bottom itches too."

Rumple frowned. Something was not right here. "Baelfire, stand up a minute," he said.

Bae did, and Rumple quickly flipped up the back of his nightshirt.

To reveal small red spots all over his son's back.

"Oh, no!" he hissed, and gently pulled down Bae's underwear as well, to find more red spots speckling the little boy's behind and thighs.

"Papa, it itches!" Bae whimpered, trying to scratch himself.

"No, dearie," Rumple caught his hand. "You mustn't scratch."

"Why-y-y?" his son whined.

"Because you've got a rash and you'll spread it. I'm afraid you've got chicken pox, lad." He gently placed Bae's hand back in front of him and fixed his clothes.

"W-What's that?"

"It's a sickness a lot of youngsters get."

"Am I gonna . . . die?" asked his son fearfully.

"Die? Of course not! But you're going to be mighty uncomfortable for the next few days, I'm afraid. Chicken pox gives you a nasty rash, son, and a temperature and sometimes makes you a bit nauseous."

"No-o-o!" Bae wailed.

"I'm sorry, son. But we all went through it when we were kids. I think I was three when I got it," Rumple said, gently stroking his son's hair.

"Even Mama?"

"Hmm . . . you know . . . I'm not sure," Rumple said. "I'll have to ask her. Okay, now here's what I need to do to make that rash quit itching you. I need you to take a bath for me in some water with oatmeal."

"Oatmeal? Papa, you _eat_ that."

"I know, but it also helps with the itching. So I'm going to run a bath for you and you're going to soak in it for awhile. Then I'm going to make up a paste with some herbs and oatmeal in it and put it on that rash. That'll make you feel a lot better, and then maybe you can drink some broth for me and take a nap."

His son nodded. "I feel all yucky."

"I know. Hopefully you won't feel as bad once you do what I told you. But you have to promise me something, Bae. No matter how much it itches, you _mustn't scratch._ Because that'll make it worse."

"Okay. I promise," the little boy agreed.

"Good lad. Now you wait here while I get that bath ready."

"Papa, what about Val?"

"I met her and told her to stay home today and tomorrow. It's a good thing too, because chicken pox is catching."

"Won't you get it then?" asked Bae, eying his father fearfully.

"No, because I've had it. But I don't know if Valentina has, so that's why I sent her back home. Wait here, Bae. I'll be back soon."

Bae stood there, and hoped his father would hurry with that oatmeal bath thing, for he was growing itchier by the minute and he clenched his fists to keep from scratching.

Downstairs, Rumple began filling the large bathtub with warmed water and added handfuls of dry oatmeal to it.

"You're taking a bath at this time of day?" Milah asked.

"No, Bae is. He's got chicken pox, Milah," Rumple told her.

"Ch-chicken pox?" Milah repeated. "Oh my gods! Is it . . . contagious?"

"Only if you haven't had it before. But you get it when you're a child, like I did. Haven't you?"

Milah shook her head rapidly. "No! I . . . was never sick! And I can catch it?"

"Calm down. You won't die if you do catch it," Rumple said. "And I think you can't anyway once the spots come out."

"But what if you're wrong? You're not a Healer, you're a spinner." Milah looked frantic. "This is all your fault, Rumple! Letting him play with that—that girl from who-knows-where! She probably has all sorts of germs and now she's infected us all!"

"You can't blame Valentina for this, Milah! Kids get stuff like this all the time, and he was down in the village a few weeks ago. They probably have it there too." He continued pouring more water into the bath and swirling in oatmeal.

"We could all _die_ thanks to your bleeding heart ways!" Milah snarled.

"Die? Dearie, you look perfectly healthy to me. Any disease is probably scared off by your temper," he smirked.

"Don't you laugh at me, Rumplestiltskin! I'm getting out of here. I'm . . . going to stay with Widow Tyrrell for a bit. And you'd better pray I don't drop dead while I'm there or I'll haunt you forever!" Milah threatened.

Rumple started chuckling. "Okay, dearie! Maybe you'd better hurry up. You never know what the bad air can do to you!"

"Oohh! You wretched imp! You make me want to smack you!"

Rumple stood up, the container of oatmeal still in his hand. "Go pack a bag, Milah. Maybe a few days as a guest of someone else will sweeten that harpy's tongue of yours. If anything will."

She half-raised a hand, glaring at him fit to kill. "You really are asking for it."

His eyes narrowed suddenly. "Am I? Be careful, Milah. You've gotten away with your bad temper and all because I don't believe in hitting women. But someday you're going to go too far, and you might not like what'll happen."

"Do you think I'm afraid of you, Rumple?" she sneered. "The coward who ruined my whole life? You should have died on that battlefield! At least you'd be worth a few songs!"

"You ought to be glad I didn't. Then you'd be stuck taking care of Bae and praying you don't die," he retorted.

"That's the only thing you're good for!" she spat, and then she whirled and raced up to the loft to pack some of her things in a bag.

"Mama, where are you going?" Bae asked.

"Mama's going to stay with Widow Tyrell till you're better. So I don't catch whatever you've got," Milah told her son impatiently.

"For how long?"

"I don't know! A couple of days. Now quit asking questions, Baelfire! I swear, even sick as a dog you still chatter!" she said, then she made her way down the ladder and out of the house.

Rumple heaved a sigh when she was gone. Now maybe he could have some peace. He called Bae to come down the ladder then.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

By the next morning, poor Bae had broken out in more spots and was almost driven mad by the constant itching. Rumple had to watch him like a hawk to keep him from scratching, practically sitting on him, and the little boy was cranky and irritable.

Rumple was bathing him in oatmeal three times a day, and putting the paste he'd made on the child at least that many times. He had to coax Bae to drink water and chamomile tea and some chicken broth, and read him stories to keep him occupied and his mind off the itching.

By the time night fell, Rumple was almost as exhausted as his son, and fell asleep on his bed without even bothering to undress, all he did was take off his boots.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

By Friday, Bae was much improved, the itching had lessened and some of the spots had crusted over. He woke up that morning and actually felt well enough to get out of bed and go downstairs to use the bathroom instead of the chamberpot they kept in the loft for emergencies.

Rumple blinked, and woke to a little hand patting his face. He groaned and half buried his head in his pillow.

"Papa. Papa, wake up. I'm hungry."

"Hmm . . . okay . . . give me a minute, Milah . . ."

"Papa, it's me, not Mama," the little voice giggled in his ear. Small fingers tickled up and down his cheek, like tiny ants marching to and fro.

"Huh? Bae?" Rumple woke up then. "Hey, how are you feeling?"

"Better. Not so itchy today. And . . . I'm hungry."

Rumple yawned. "Good. That's good, son." He rubbed his eyes. "Let me put some more paste on and then I can make breakfast."

"Okay," Bae agreed, walking over to his bed and pulling off his nightshirt and underwear. Familiar with this procedure, he lay face down on the bed and waited.

Rumple dragged himself out of bed, still feeling tired, and picked up the bowl of paste and began mixing what was left with some more water and powder and oatmeal. Once he'd gotten it to a spreadable consistency, he gently applied it, smoothing it all over his son's body.

Bae sighed in relief, for whatever was in it soothed the awful red welts in seconds.

"Okay, done. Now let it dry, son, and we'll do the other side."

They waited five minutes for the paste to set, then Bae turned over so Rumple could do his front.

"All right. Put your clothes back on when this is dry and I'll go and make us some porridge and toast with peanut butter. How's that sound?"

"Yummy!" Bae said. He licked his lips, for suddenly he was starving. But he lay on his bed until the paste had dried, then pulled on his shirt and underwear again and made his way downstairs.

He had to admit, as awful as it was being sick, the house had been a lot quieter and pleasant without his mother there. That thought made him feel a little bit guilty, because he knew he should be missing her, but he honestly didn't. Not yet at least.

As he ate his toast and peanut butter at the table, he recalled something. "Papa, isn't Val coming today?"

"Yes, she is. Do you feel well enough to have her come over and sit quietly with you?" asked his father.

"Yes, please! I'm bored out of my mind!"

Rumple chuckled. "All right, then she can stay for a bit."

"Yes!" Bae cheered, and then he almost upset his bowl of porridge. "Sorry," he apologized, half-afraid his papa would start yelling at him for being clumsy like his mother did.

But Rumple just said, "Be careful," and continued eating his breakfast.

Bae quietly ate his porridge and thought this would probably be a good day.

When Val arrived with her suitcase in tow, Rumple escorted her back to the cottage. "I brought some medicine for Bae," she informed the spinner.

"Medicine?"

"Yup. In case he still has a fever, he can take some children's Tylenol. It tastes good and it makes you feel better."

"I see. That's very nice of you, Val. Bae can't wait to play with you, but you have to do quiet things inside today, since he's not quite well enough to play outside."

"Okay. I can play Connect Four with him and we can draw and stuff. I brought a deck of cards too, we can play Go Fish. Have you ever played that game?"

"No. You'll have to teach me, dearie."

"Okay! And . . . umm . . . I have something to ask you," Val said, biting her lip.

"Go on."

"Can I . . . umm . . . stay here for a couple of days? You see, papa's going away on a business trip to Pennsylvania to open a new store there and . . . he'll be gone for the whole weekend. So I thought . . . I could maybe stay here . . . for like Saturday and Sunday and . . . umm . . . maybe Monday and Tuesday since the time's different here."

Rumple paused and stared at the small girl. "Well, I . . ."

"Please? Please, sir? I promise I'll be good and I won't make any noise and drive Milah crazy and I'll help wash the floor and make the beds and do the dishes and I'll sleep on the floor since you only have two beds. I'll do anything . . . just . . . please can I stay over?"

"Hold it!" Rumple held up a hand. "Valentina, take a breath. First of all, you can stay, and you don't need to become a slave in order to do so. Milah's not here right now, she's staying with a friend so she doesn't get sick from chicken pox, and therefore you can't annoy her."

"I can stay? For real?"

"Yes," he replied.

Valentina squealed happily and jumped into his arms. "Thanks so much! It'll be my first sleepover anywhere!"

He hugged her back, glad that she was smiling now. "It'll be the first time Bae has ever had anyone sleep over too. Do you need to get anything, dearie?"

"Umm . . . yeah, maybe I'd better go back and ask Mrs. DeLuca to put some extra clothes and stuff in my suitcase."

"I'll wait here," Rumple assured her.

So Val went back through the portal for the second time that day. After she had informed Mrs. DeLuca of her new plans, though the elderly woman wasn't exactly thrilled about letting her charge go off without talking to her friend's parents, but Val begged so much that finally she gave in and helped her pack.

"And they'll drop me off here on Monday afternoon," Val told her.

"I'll be right here waiting, _bambina_," said her caregiver. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I pray I'm doing the right thing," she murmured, crossing herself. If anything happened to Val, she would never forgive herself. But somehow, it was the oddest thing, she knew the little girl would be all right. And she had learned long ago to trust her intuition.

Val burst out of the portal and rapid crawled out of the glade, chattering a mile a minute to Rumple as they walked back to the cottage, telling him all about the books she'd read and the games she'd played with Mrs. DeLuca while Bae was sick.

"Oh, my goodness!" she cried when she saw Bae for the first time that day. "You look like a giraffe! A sick giraffe!"

"And sometimes I still itch, but not like at first," her friend smiled. "Let's play a game."

So they played Connect Four, and drew silly pictures, and then Val taught Rumple and Bae how to play Go Fish. It was then that Val told Bae about her staying there for a few days and Bae was delighted.

"That's like so cool! But where're you going to sleep?"

"I think it might be okay if you both slept in my bed," Rumple said. "I'll change the sheets on yours and sleep there."

"It's a good thing Mama's away, otherwise she'd have a conniption," Bae remarked.

They all had a good laugh over that one, and for lunch that day they ate ham and Swiss sandwiches Mrs. DeLuca had made and had chips and chocolate donuts. For dinner she had made a huge chicken potpie and they had hot cocoa with marshmallows for dessert, along with chocolate chip cookies

Because Bae was still sick, Rumple had him go to bed early. He grumbled a bit, but Val then agreed to read him a story, she had brought a book along with some of her favorite fairy tales in it.

After she had gotten into her pajamas and brushed her teeth, Val climbed up on Rumple's bed and sat next to Bae and read him Jack the Giant-Killer until he fell asleep.

By then she was oddly tired as well and lay down next to him and slept.

Rumple came up a few minutes later and tucked them both in, gently removing the book from her hands and putting it on the crate.

Then he quickly removed the sheets from Bae's bed and put new ones on before going downstairs to do some more spinning.

The clock had just struck eleven at night when he heard the pitter patter of little feet coming down the ladder. He looked up to see Valentina in her pink nightgown with purple ponies all over it standing there, her green eyes filled with tears.

"What's wrong, dearie? Did you have a bad dream?"

She shook her head. "Rumple . . . I don't feel good."

He stared at her in alarm. "Come here, Val. Let me feel your forehead."

She came and when he touched her, he sighed. "You're burning up, sweetheart. I think I need that medicine you brought. Is there anything else wrong?"

"Everything hurts and I'm itchy."

"Where?" he asked.

She patted her chest.

"All right. Let's have a look." He gently lifted her nightgown, dreading what he would find.

Sure enough, there were the telltale red spots.

Valentina, like Bae, had the chicken pox.


	6. The Gift

**6**

**The Gift**

Rumple dosed Val with some of children's Tylenol that she'd brought, then spread some of his oatmeal paste on the red spots on her chest and there were a few on her back as well. Once that was done, he gently ushered the child back upstairs and tucked her into bed with Bae, who was sleeping soundly, one foot hanging out of the covers.

He pushed his son's foot back onto the bed, then sat next to Val and asked, "Can you sleep now, dearie, or would you like me to sing you a lullaby? I don't have the best voice, but I can carry a tune."

"I've never had anybody do that before. Mrs. DeLuca says her singing would make a bird drop dead," Val admitted.

"I'm not that bad," he smirked. He cleared his throat, then began singing, in a passable soft voice, "_Pretty girl, go to sleep, for the night is dark and deep, in the meadow count the sheep, pretty girl, go to sleep, th'o dark is near, have no fear, for I am near, pretty girl, go to sleep, safe and sound, forever I'll keep, may your dreams be sweet and bright, till you wake at morning's light."_

Val felt herself drifting, borne away on the tide of Rumple's voice, so soothing, so gentle, unlike anything she had ever known before. There had been no songs and no gentleness from the man she called her father, nothing at all but harsh words and coldness. But the spinner's soft voice washed over her, and the words he sang cocooned her in warmth, and she fell asleep just as the song ended, slipping easily into dreams where she and Bae ran in a meadow, chasing fireflies under a harvest moon, and Rumple's voice echoed through the air.

The spinner realized his charge was sleeping soon after he'd sung the last refrain, and then he halted and whispered, "Goodnight, sleep tight, my pretty girl." Then he bent and kissed her forehead, just as he did to Bae.

The action startled him a little, for the child nestled beside his own was none of his blood, and yet it didn't matter at all. Through the weeks since Val had come to them, he had grown increasingly fond of the little girl, of her liveliness and sweetness, and it pained him when she spoke of her life with her father, and how callus he was, as bad as Milah on her worst day. _You're a fool, Morinelli. A fool and worse, to throw away the last gift your wife ever gave you, and the best one. Someday, perhaps, you'll regret it, although somehow I doubt it. Your kind almost never do. But your loss is my gain. For I will cherish what you threw away, and be all the richer for it, even though I live in a peasant's cottage and you live high in your tower in New York._

He stroked Val's hair, and then Bae's as well before going down the ladder to complete his last spool of thread, which he had spun using the new wool he had dyed a deep crimson. The thread from it came out soft and fine, and would show up dramatically against lighter colored cloth on a dress or tapestry.

He carefully removed it from the wheel and tucked it in the basket, then turned off the lamp and made his way back upstairs, after checking to make sure the door was locked. Then he fell asleep, sleeping the sleep of the exhausted, until the first rays of the morning sun slanted over his face through the round window next to Bae's bed.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

"Baelfire, _no scratching_!" ordered Rumple for the umpteenth time in about three hours.

"But Papa, I'm _itchy_!" his son complained, pulling his hand out from beneath the covers where he'd been sneakily trying to scratch his leg.

"Yes, I know that, son, but you have to leave the spots alone," Rumple said wearily. He had repeated that same advice over and over to both children, but he knew the itching was driving them crazy. Hell, it was driving _him_ crazy! "Where does it itch now?"

"My legs and . . . my . . . umm . . . down there . . ." Bae muttered, pointing.

"Okay, let me put some more paste on," his father said. _Poor kid! I'm lucky I was too little to remember going through this._ As he mixed up another batch of paste, thankful it was a simple recipe to make, he glanced over at Val, who was sleeping right then.

The little girl seemed to have a lot of spots on her body, and less so on her arms, legs, and face. But she also had them inside her mouth and on her tongue, which made her reluctant to eat anything, because it hurt to swallow. Rumple fed her broth and Wonder bread soaked into mush and had her drink lots of tea and water and continued giving her and Bae the medicine she'd brought. Her fever came and went, and Bae's was almost gone, though the spots kept emerging in clusters all over his poor son.

As he spread more paste over his son, trying to alleviate the horrid itching that came with any new outbreak, he thought about the sheets that needed to be hung on the line to dry that he'd washed this morning with the ringer washer, and the tub which needed to be emptied and then refilled with water in preparation for the next time he bathed the two children. His back ached from all the heavy lifting he'd done over the past twenty-four hours and his leg throbbed too from the countless trips up and down the ladder, but he just gritted his teeth and ignored the pain. He had no choice, after all.

He had to admit, thought, that Bae and Val were pretty good about being sick, they didn't whine too much about staying in bed or inside the cottage, and were content to listen to him read from Val's book or play cards or draw with crayons on the paper he'd gotten from the scrivener, a whole ream of it had been cut wrong and stained, so Master Archen had given in to him for free a month previous.

Drawings of everything from animals to seascapes now were hung all over the loft, because Rumple figured giving the kids something to see would keep them from going crazy.

Bae whimpered a little as Rumple applied the paste using a soft small paintbrush to his groin. "Sorry, son. I know that's tender," the spinner apologized, being as gentle and thorough as possible.

"Papa, when am I going to stop itching?" Bae whined, squirming slightly.

"In a few days," sighed his father.

"You said that _yesterday_," grumbled his son.

"I know that. And I'll keep saying it, until you've stopped getting new spots," Rumple explained. "Once that happens and they all crust over, you'll stop itching so much."

Bae scowled. "This sucks!"

"For me and you both," his father snorted. "And Valentina too."

"I gave it to her," Bae said mournfully.

"You don't know that, son. She could have gotten it from one of the Thatcher boys," Rumple told him.

"You mean, they've got chicken pox too?"

"Nearly all the children in the village have it, and a few of the adults too," Rumple reported. "At least that's what Susie Peverell told me when I went over to her place to buy some milk this morning. "It's like an epidemic."

"What's that?"

"It means a disease that's widespread, affecting a lot of people."

"Is Mama okay, do you think?"

"I have no idea. Maybe I'll go down today and see," Rumple said, though he doubted he'd have time today, with all the chores he still had to do and the children to look after. "I'm sure she's fine, so long as she stays inside Widow Tyrell's house."

Actually, it would serve her right if she did get a case, he thought, though he didn't say that to Baelfire. The child had enough to cope with without him fanning the fires of resentment towards Milah, no matter how much she deserved it.

"I'm thirsty."

Rumple handed him a tin cup of water. "Drink that and I'll get more," he said. "And remember, no scratching, or I'll put mittens on you."

Bae tucked his hands into the sheets, knowing that wasn't an idle threat. Rumple had shown him the mittens, thick heavy woven blue ones, that tied to your wrists with a string. No way did he want to wear those hot things! But it was so hard to keep from scratching! He twitched his nose, because now _that_ was itching. He could practically _feel_ a spot starting to come out, and sniffed sharply.

Beside him, Valentina stirred and opened her eyes. "Bae? Is it morning yet?"

"Uh huh." He turned to look at her. "Your face looks like a leopard's."

She grimaced. "Yours doesn't look so great either. You look like a spotted chimpanzee."

He stuck his tongue out at her. "Do not!"

"Do too!"

"Do not!"

"Do too!"

"Why are you two arguing?" asked Rumple exasperatedly, returning with some more water in a covered pitcher.

"Umm . . .'cause," Bae answered, having no good reason.

Val shrank into the pillow, fearing she was in trouble. "We're sorry," she said quickly.

Rumple placed the pitcher on the crate beside Bae and then went over to Val's side of the bed. "I'm not angry, dearie. How's your throat today?"

"It still hurts."

"May I see?"

Val opened her mouth.

Rumple winced upon seeing the white and red pustules coating the little girl's tongue and throat. "Hmm . . . can you gargle for me, sweetheart? I'm going to put some baking soda in a cup of water and maybe that will help."

"Yes," Val answered.

Rumple had already noted that she automatically said yes even to the most mildly voiced request of his, which spoke volumes about her treatment at the hands of her father. Clearly she had never been allowed to disagree with any male in authority, or if she had, it had quickly been stomped out of her. Some might have considered that a good thing. Rumple thought it a shame.

He carefully mixed a teaspoon of baking soda, which he'd carried up in his tunic pocket, with a half a cup of water, then he had her gargle with it for three minutes while standing over the basin on the crate on her side of the bed.

"Feel any better?" he asked when she was done.

"Yes."

"Good. Then why don't we all go down and have breakfast?"

He had some toast and coffee earlier, at around five thirty, before he'd done the laundry, but it was nine now and he was ready for something more substantial.

Both children nodded and preceded him down the ladder, scurrying over to the table.

He poured them both cups of milk and then scrambled up some ham, eggs and toast for himself and Bae, and stirred a small pot of warmed milk with cinnamon and sugar, to which he then added pieces of Wonder bread, for Val.

Both children seemed to have their appetites back today, it was the third day since the chicken pox had emerged for Bae and the second for Val. They ate everything they were given, and while Rumple washed up afterwards, they compared how many more spots they had and which was itchier.

Listening to them made Rumple feel like scratching himself, even though he knew quite well he didn't have anything the matter with him.

Once the dishes were done, he told the two children to play quietly while he hung the towels and sheets to dry outside.

Val and Bae played War with her cards, while Rumple hung the laundry, which also contained Bae's nightshirt and a few pairs of socks and Rumple's own clothes in addition to the sheets and towels.

After he had done that, he decided to take a small rest on the porch, and limped around the cottage to sit on the whitewashed bench beside the door. It was sunny out again, and he felt bad that the children couldn't enjoy the nice weather, but he stretched out his leg and soaked up the warm summer sun and relaxed for awhile.

He almost fell asleep, it was so peaceful there, when he heard footsteps coming up the walk. He opened his eyes then, praying it wasn't Milah come back. Instead it was Widow Tyrell, who'd lost her husband to a fever five years ago. "Hello, Rachel."

Widow Tyrell, whose given name was Rachel, was a middle-aged woman in her fifties, with her blonde hair in a bun and her gingham dress fluttering over her work boots. She was one of the few neighbors that actually paid no mind to the charges of cowardice that the other villagers whispered behind Rumple's back, a practical no-nonsense lady who had raised two children after her husband died. Both children were now grown and moved away, though her daughter did come visit from time to time.

"Hello, Rumple. Fair bit o'weather we're having."

"Yes. Did Milah come over there?"

"She did. All bent out of shape, she was."

Rumple rolled his eyes. "Has she driven you to drink yet, Rachel?"

Widow Tyrell chuckled. "Not yet. I come to tell ye that she's a mite sick with the chicken pox. Claims she got it from yer son. How is the laddie?"

"He's getting better," Rumple answered. "And you think Milah has it now?" He almost laughed aloud. It seemed the gods had a sense of justice after all.

"I don't think, I know. She's all covered in spots and as wretched as a sailor thrown in the brig wi'out a tot o' rum. I was wondering . . . what've ye been doin' for yer laddie there?"

"Oatmeal baths and some paste made with it," Rumple replied. "And willowbark tea for fever," he added, knowing full well how bitter that was.

"Aye, that's what I thought. Can ye give me the recipe for that paste? The one I got's not strong enough, she claims."

"I'm sorry you have to put up with her," Rumple said.

"Ah, better me than you, aye? 'Specially now ye've got a sick lad," Widow Tyrell shrugged. "But I told her iffen she thinks to take out her temper on me, I'd whack her upside the head with ma skillet."

"I'll bet that shut her up!" Rumple said gleefully.

"Right quick," the widow nodded. "I don't put up wi' any nonsense, 'specially not from someone young enough t'be my daughter."

"Good for you," he said. "Shall I write the recipe down for you?"

"Nah, ye know I can't read, spinner. Jus' tell me it, and I'll remember."

Rumple told her the recipe, thinking that Milah had gotten exactly what she deserved, sick with chicken pox, and being nursed by Rachel Tyrell, who wouldn't cater to her whims. It was priceless.

"Thank you for informing me, Rachel," he said.

"No trouble a'tall, Rumple. She's a handful, that one. Don't know how ye put up wi' her. Ma Bruce, the gods rest him, was a fair an' good husband, an' loved me till the day he died, but he'd never put up wi' her snippy ways an'such, no sir! She done nothing but complain about ye and the laddie since she came through ma door. Now I seen ye down at the market, Rumple, an' I know ye're not the layabout she makes ye out t' be, nor a coward neither."

"Thanks, Rachel. You're one of the only ones who think so."

Widow Tyrell snorted. "I use the eyes I was born with, 'stead o' paying attention to gossip like too many do. Milah's got a better life as yer wife than most do, she don't appreciate it, though. A good house, food in her belly, clothes, a nice lad, an' a husband who treats her good—an' she acts like she's put on! Hah! Like I said 'afore, she's lucky yer her husband, 'cause any other man'd not put up with her snippiness. They'd have given her th' back o'their hand long a'fore."

"I don't believe in hitting women, Rachel. I never have."

"Lucky, she is. Even ma Bruce woulda hauled her across his knee by now fer the way she acts. The way she talks about ye, 'tisn't right, Rumple. To badmouth her husband so . . ." Widow Tyrell shook her head. "There's plenty others worse n'her that I could name, an' they don't say nothin'. Told her so, I did."

"I'll bet she loved that."

"Ha! Gave me th' cold shoulder, she did. Not like it bothered me none," the widow grinned at him. "I tell ye true, Rumple, the lassie be needin' a good lesson in manners from ye. She's dragged yer pride through th' dirt long enough."

"I won't beat her, Rachel. That's not my way."

"Nah, spinner, now did I say that? I said teach her a lesson. Next time she badmouths ye in public, take her over your knee and give her a couple of whacks, I guarantee she'll shut her mouth an' think twice about callin' you names again."

"I don't know, Rachel. That won't change her attitude much towards me."

"Maybe not, but it'll make her think a'fore she speaks, aye? Think about it, Rumple," she winked at him. "Good day to ye."

"And you also, Rachel. Tell Milah . . . I hope she gets better."

"Will do, spinner," the widow said, and turned and walked back down the track, leaving a very thoughtful Rumplestiltskin behind her.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Two more days passed, and though Val was sick, she found the time she had to spend in bed made more than bearable by being with Bae and Rumple, who distracted her from her illness by talking with her and making her feel welcome, and not like a burden that they couldn't wait to be rid of.

It astonished her that Rumple was so sympathetic to her plight, giving her baths and putting that soothing paste on her several times in a day, making her special meals that didn't hurt her sore mouth, and all of that without some cutting remark of how she was more trouble than she was worth. When her fever rose on the second day, Rumple calmly bathed her with cool cloths and opened the window to get a breeze into the loft, and gave her Tylenol. When her nightgown became sticky with the secretions made by the pox when they burst, Rumple didn't gripe at her, but simply removed it and dressed her in one of Bae's nightshirts, washing it along with the sheets the next day.

Val was very aware that if she had gotten sick like this on the weekend with only her father there, he would have either left her to tend to herself or called Mrs. DeLuca, if she were home, since she often went to visit her parents or took a bus to Atlantic City. So she was especially grateful for the care Rumple gave to her, and was also glad that Bae didn't resent her for getting sick too and having to share his papa with her.

In fact, it was Bae who called Rumple the third night, because Val was having a nightmare and moaning in her sleep. "Papa, Val's having a bad dream and she won't wake up," he roused a sleepy Rumple downstairs in the rocking chair. "She needs you."

So Rumple had come up into the loft and gently picked up Valentina, who half-woke and started whimpering in terror, and then asked Bae if he was afraid to sleep alone. Bae just looked at him. "I'm not afraid of the dark, Papa," he told him. "I'm gonna go back to sleep," then he pulled the covers over his head.

With Val clinging to him like a limpet, Rumple made his way back down to the rocking chair and sat with the little girl, holding her and calming her with his hands and voice while he rocked to and fro.

He couldn't make much sense of the little girl's nightmare, for all Val would say was, "He left me all alone . . . it was dark and cold . . . and he left me there!"

From that Rumple could deduce that "he" was probably her father, and the child feared one day he would abandon her. The little girl's terror was so prevalent that it took him about fifteen minutes to calm her down, and made him long to grab Morinelli by the collar and beat him senseless. _That man doesn't deserve to take care of a . . . cockroach, much less a human being!_

"You're not alone here, Val. I'm here and Bae is here, my pretty girl. Hush, dearie," he repeated that over and over until she stopped crying and fell asleep in his arms, tears and spots speckling her pale cheeks.

It was after he had put her back in bed next to Bae that the idea came to him. Since she couldn't always be here, perhaps she needed something to remind her that there were people who cared for her when she returned to New York.

And so he took a spool of his crimson thread and some cloth and began to draw a pattern upon it. He worked all the next day on this project, inbetween caring for Bae and Val, and late at night to finish it. He used scrap material he had saved in his shed, cutting and sewing like a fiend.

Finally it was done, and he presented it to Val on her last morning at his cottage. He wished she could stay until she was truly better, but knew she had to return to New York. But perhaps this would make the parting easier.

"I wish I didn't have to go home," Val sighed as she ate her scrambled eggs and sausage.

"Me too," Bae agreed, for he'd liked having a friend stay over for so long.

"Unfortunately, dearies, all good things must come to an end," Rumple told them. "However, here's something to keep those nightmares away, Val. Especially when you're alone on the weekends with your papa."

He pulled a small doll from his pocket, it was about a foot long, sewn of scraps of cloth, with brown yarn hair, wearing a yellow dress with a pretty design sewed on the front with his crimson thread. The thread was also used to make a hem of small flowers about the sleeves, there were even tiny fabric boots on her feet, and ribbons in her hair. Her face was simple, just a snub nose, bright turquoise button eyes, and a smiling mouth.

Val's mouth dropped open. "For me? She's mine to keep?"

"Well, I sure don't want her!" Bae chuckled. "I don't play with dolls."

"I made her for you, dearie. You told me all your dolls are hard and you can't hug them at night, so here's one you can sleep with," Rumple said, handing her the doll.

"Oh!" was all Val could say, and she clutched the doll to her as if he'd given her a million dollars. "Thank you! Thank you a million times!"

"Papa made me a horse like that," Bae told her. "And I sleep with him most times."

"She's beautiful! It's the best present I've ever gotten," Val declared. She hugged the doll to her, her eyes glowing.

"I've stuffed her with wool fluff and some sprigs of lavender," Rumple told her. "You can smell the lavender when you hug her. Lavender brings good dreams."

Val sniffed and cried, "I can smell it. It smells wonderful. Now I have something to hold at night after Mrs. DeLuca leaves." _And no one cares if I wake up screaming, _she thought but didn't say aloud.

"What are you going to call her?" asked Bae curiously.

"Umm . . . I don't know. I'll have to think up a good name for her," Val said.

"Take your time, dearie. Names are important," Rumple said. "I'm glad you like my little surprise."

"Did you know?" she asked Bae.

"Yeah, I found out last night, when I went out to call him inside to make supper," her friend admitted. "But it was a secret, so I couldn't tell."

Val grinned at him, and even the fact that she had to leave and go back to Manhattan, still sick with chicken pox, didn't dampen her mood. Rumple's gift would ensure she was never alone at night again, and she no longer feared having nightmares with her new doll to hug.

**A/N: What should Val call her new doll? And who thinks Widow Tyrell gives Rumple good advice? **


	7. Colder Than Ice

**7**

**Colder Than Ice**

When Val arrived back in Central Park that Monday afternoon, Mrs. DeLuca took one look at her and said she needed to be in bed. Val agreed without a fuss, as she was rather tired still, and clutching her new doll to her, walked back to the penthouse with her caregiver. On the way she told Mrs. DeLuca how she'd caught chickenpox, and Bae had it too, and how nice Rumple had been to take care of her while she was sick.

"And he even made me a doll!" she exclaimed, showing Mrs. DeLuca it. "Isn't it the coolest thing?"

"Very cool, my _bambina,_" Mary said, examining the doll and noting that the workmanship was very good. "Is he a tailor or a clothes designer, your friend's papa?"

"Yeah, he's sort of both," Val said, not wanting to tell her too much about Rumple for fear she'd not be believed. She no longer thought she was going to New Jersey every time she went through the door, she had a feeling that wherever Bae lived was a lot further away than that, maybe even a different time or something. But of course she couldn't say that, so she just didn't mention it. "Will you help me name her, Mrs. D?"

"Yes. We shall make a list of all the lovely names and then you can pick one or two from it," she told her charge.

Back at the penthouse, Mrs. DeLuca went and fetched the calamine lotion out from the bathroom and put it all over Val's spots, then helped her into a clean nightgown and tucked her into bed with tea and toast.

Then she got out a piece of paper and a pen and the two began to brainstorm names for the doll.

"What did you mean before, when you said I could pick two names?" Val asked her.

Mrs. DeLuca grinned. "Well, a girl can have more than one name, Valentina. I have three names. My first name is Mary, my middle name is Constance, and my third name is my confirmation name, Theresa, so my whole name is actually Mary Constance Theresa DeLuca. Do you see?"

"Oh! That's really neat! I wish I had two names," Val said.

"But you do. Your middle name is April, like your mama's," Mrs. DeLuca said. "She gave you your name, sweetie, before she went to be with the angels."

"I never knew that!" Val gasped. "Why didn't Papa ever tell me?" Then she shook her head. "Never mind, don't answer that. I already know why."

Mrs. DeLuca sighed. It bothered her to no end how cold Mr. Morinelli was to his daughter, but there was nothing she could do about it, and nothing to be gained by talking about it either. "So . . . let's pick out two good names for your _bambina_, eh?"

So that was what they did.

Valentina ended up calling the doll Amanda Willa, for Amanda meant "worthy of being loved" or "lovable" and Willa meant "protector".

After that she finished her tea and took a nap, sleeping for several hours.

During that time, Mr. Morinelli, whose given name was Paul, arrived home from his trip to Pennsylvania. He came in the door with a wrinkled suit and tie and rather bloodshot eyes, having driven three hours straight back to Manhattan on only three cups of coffee and an egg McMuffin. He was hungry, irritable, and tired.

He nodded to Mrs. DeLuca as he went past her to put his briefcase in his room.

"Did you have a good trip, sir?" she asked, trying as she always did, to be friendly.

"It was okay," he grunted, coming into the kitchen and rummaging in the fridge. He took out some cold chicken marsala and spaghetti and shoved a plate in the microwave. "I might have to back to the new store in King of Prussia though next weekend. Are you going to be available to watch her?"

"Yes," Mrs. DeLuca said quickly. He hardly ever used Val's name when he spoke about her. It was always "the kid" or "her", as if she weren't really there.

"Good. I'll tell you on Friday if I need you," he said shortly, going and taking the plate out of the microwave when it dinged. "Did she behave for you?" he asked, pouring himself a glass of diet soda.

"She was fine. But she caught the chicken pox, sir."

"Chicken pox? Didn't she have that already?" he frowned.

Mrs. DeLuca shook her head. "No, sir. Otherwise she wouldn't have caught it now." She watched the good-looking man with his neatly barbered hair and classic Italian features eating and thought angrily, _you've just learned your daughter's sick and do you go to her and ask her how she is? No, you just keep on eating, you cold selfish bastard!_

"Did you bring her to the doctor?" he queried.

"Yes, and they told me what I already knew. Chicken pox," she answered, keeping the resentment out of her voice. She hadn't bothered, she knew quite well what Val had, and didn't want to waste a trip in order to be told what she already knew.

"How long will she have it?"

"About nine or ten days," answered the older woman.

"All right. I'll pay you an extra ten dollars a day to care for her." He finished his meal and put the plate in the sink. Then he pulled out his wallet and gave her several folded bills. "For this weekend. I'll be in my room, getting some shut eye. Don't disturb me unless the building's on fire."

He went to go down the hall to his room.

"Sir? Don't you want to see—" she began.

"Later. I'll see the kid later," was all he said, then he went into his room and closed the door.

_Cold. Cold as ice,_ Mary thought. _That friend's papa has more kindness than you do!_ Shaking her head, she began to fix a salad to go along with the leftover chicken marsala for tonight for herself and Val. Morinelli, she knew, would probably go out to meet some of his people from work, as he usually did after one of his trips.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

_Fairy Tale Land:_

For two days, Val did not come to play with Bae, and Bae fretted and sulked because Rumple still wouldn't let him go outside, despite the fact that most of the pox had scabbed over now and didn't itch any longer.

"How come Val's not coming?" he griped to his father on Thursday.

"Bae, she's sick, they're probably keeping her home until she's better," Rumple explained.

"She was sick over here and you took care of her," his son pointed out.

"I know, but normally that wouldn't be the case. You'll just have to be patient, son," the spinner said, sighing.

"I'm bored, Papa! There's nothing to do around here," Bae complained.

"We could play cards. Val left her cards here," Rumple suggested.

"No. I'm sick of playing cards," Bae said.

"You could help me card wool," Rumple suggested.

"No. That's boring too! I want to go outside."

"How about you help me card wool for half-an-hour and then we can sit on the porch for a bit?"

Bae shook his head. "I wanna go to the glade, Papa. I'm sick of sitting down."

Rumple knew it was hard on his mainly active son to be cooped up in the cottage for such a long time. "No. I know you may feel like you can run about, but you're still not completely well, and if you play too hard you'll get sick again. You need to take it easy, Bae, until the spots are all gone."

Bae scowled, his lower lip sticking out in a pout. "I don't wanna take it easy! I feel fine!" He stamped his foot on the floor.

Rumple frowned at his son. "Someone's acting like a brat today," he said reprovingly.

"I don't care!"

"And that someone's going to get six minutes in the corner if he doesn't watch how he's answering me back," his father warned.

"You're mean!"

"Baelfire. One."

The little boy threw his father a sulky look and suddenly ran across the room and up into the loft. "I hate being sick!" he yelled, throwing himself on his bed. "And I hate that Val's not here either! This day sucks!"

Rumple sighed and finished cleaning up the table. Perhaps after he finished hanging up the laundry they could take a walk. By then his son might have gotten over his mini tantrum and be willing to compromise. He wanted to stop by Widow Tyrell's to see how Milah was doing, since she was still sick with chicken pox.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

After half-an-hour, Rumple called up to the loft, "Baelfire, would you like to go for a walk? I thought we could go see your mother at Widow Tyrell's."

Bae, who had been sulking all that time, and looking at the pictures in Val's fairy tale book that she'd left behind, was surprised that his papa was actually allowing him out of the house. "Okay! I'm coming!" he called down, and hastened to tie his boot laces before climbing down the ladder.

He landed on the floor lightly and walked over to Rumple, who stood beside the door, cane in one hand, and a small package with some chocolate snaps in them which he had gotten from Val and had forgotten about until now. Perhaps the crunchy chocolate cookies would make Milah feel better.

"Do you think Mama's feeling better?" queried Bae, looking concerned.

"Well, we can hope so," said his father. "I'm bringing her some cookies. Hopefully she can eat them."

Bae nodded. Then he looked down at his feet and muttered, "Papa, I'm sorry I was nasty to you."

"I forgive you, son. I know it's hard to be sick for so long. But in a few days you'll be better and can play outside like you used to."

"Okay," the little boy sighed. "Now can we go see Mama?"

Rumple stepped out onto the porch, accompanied by his son, and closed the door behind them. They began the short walk to Widow Tyrell's place, which was just down the road a piece.

At first Bae matched strides with his father, but soon his natural exuberance got the better of him and he half skipped ahead of Rumple, delighted to feel the sun on his face and the breeze swirling through his dark hair.

As they crossed a stretch of green grass, Bae halted and pointed to some wild flowers growing there. "Look, Papa! Flowers! I'm going to pick some for Mama."

He raced alongside the road and began to pick handfuls of blue, pink, white, and gold flowers. When he had gotten some of all the kinds there, he ran back to Rumple and said, "Look at all the neat kinds I found! I think they'll make Mama feel better when she sees them."

Rumple smiled at his son's enthusiasm. "They're some very nice flowers, Bae. She ought to like them just fine, son."

He ruffled Bae's curly hair, which looked like it needed a trim, but he didn't have time for that today. Maybe tomorrow he would wash his son's hair and trim it back so it wasn't hanging in his eyes. His son's little face was marked a little with small dried pock marks, but Rumple didn't think they'd leave scars, they just would fade away.

They continued walking down the road until they reached Widow Tyrell's house, with its blue shutters and stone walk with the hydrangea bushes along it. Widow Tyrell had a white swing on her porch where a large fluffy orange cat was sitting. She wore a pink ribbon about her neck and had huge green eyes.

"Oh, Papa! I forgot Widow Tyrell had a cat," Bae said, his eyes lighting up. "Do you think I can pet her?"

"Her name is Sassy, and I think she wouldn't mind," Rumple said. "But first, why don't you give your mama the flowers and say hello, then you can come back here and pet Sassy?"

"Okay!" Bae waved at the feline as they went up and knocked on the door of the cottage, which resembled their own, save that Widow Tyrell had a blue door and a wreath of lavender and ivy on it.

The door was opened by Rachel herself. "Well, if it ain't Rumple and Bae! Goodness, boy, ye've grown a foot since I last saw ye!"

Bae smiled up at her. "Papa says I'm growing like a weed!"

"That ye are, laddie," she laughed. "Have ye come t'see yer mama, then?"

"Yes, ma'am," Bae said. "I brought her some flowers."

"How thoughtful of ye!" Rachel exclaimed. "Come in. Milah's in the back room by ma stove. She's feelin' a mite better today."

"That's good to hear," Rumple said. "I have some cookies here for her."

They followed the widow through her front room, which consisted of a rocker and a basket of sewing, a fireplace, a table and three chairs as well as a chestnut colored highboy with some red glazed dishes in it. Further back was a curtained alcove next to a black stove with a teakettle upon it.

"Milah, there's sommat here to see ye," Rachel called before she swept back the curtain.

Milah lay in a bed with a blue blanket over her, propped up by two pillows. Her face was covered with red spots and her black curly hair was pulled back from her face, making her cheeks look a little sunken. Her hands were resting atop the blanket, and they too were covered with red spots. She eyed Rumple as he came towards her with thinly disguised distaste.

"So . . . you finally came to see me. It's about time," she said coldly.

Rumple raised an eyebrow. "Now there's a fine welcome, wife. I had a sick child to tend to, as well as all the other household tasks to complete, that's why I wasn't over here sooner. Besides, Rachel kept me informed about how you were doing, and she said you really weren't up to seeing anyone until now. Unless you'd prefer it if I saw you puking and scratching."

Milah huffed then, and would have said something else, but Bae burst into the alcove holding his flowers and grinning. "Mama! See what I brought you! Flowers! Aren't they pretty?" He thrust the bunch of flowers in Milah's face.

Milah stiffened, then she pushed the flowers away and snarled, "Baelfire, what the hell are you doing, thrusting those . . . weeds in my face? You almost poked my eye out!"

Bae suddenly backed off, the flowers still clutched in his hand, looking upset. "Sorry, Mama. I just wanted you to smell them."

Milah wrinkled her nose. "They're just common wildflowers, boy, it's not like they're roses or something. They smell like dust and wind."

"But . . . don't you like them?"

Milah rolled her eyes. "Put them in some water before they wilt, boy. I'm sure they'll brighten up Widow Tyrell's table."

Bae looked rather crestfallen at her lukewarm response. "Okay," he said, and took the wildflowers over to Rachel and asked her if she had something he could put them in.

Rachel filled an old jam jar with water and put the flowers in it and set it on the table. Then she said gently to Bae, "Why don't you go out an' pet ma kitty for a spell, Bae? She likes to be petted around the ears."

"All right!" Bae cried, and ran out the door, his mother's response to his gift forgotten in his excitement at petting the cat.

Once Baelfire was out of earshot, Rumple turned to his wife and said angrily, "You know, you could be more appreciative and less of a bitch. He was only trying to make you feel better."

"How? By bringing me a bunch of weeds?" she sneered. "I almost choked to death, Rumple!"

"It's the thought that counts. Or it should," he said, scowling. He held out the bag of cookies. "Maybe this will be more to your liking, Your Highness," he said, the sarcasm in his voice sharp as a knife.

Milah took the bag and said, "What's this?"

"They're chocolate snaps."

"You make them?"

"And if I did?"

"I'll probably break my teeth on them, because gods know you can't bake," she said stiffly, taking one out and smelling it. "Huh. They look edible." She popped one into her mouth. "Hmm. Pretty good. Where'd you get them?"

"New York," he replied.

"At least that little snip is good for something," Milah said, and ate another one.

Rumple snorted. "You remind me of a snippy little dog. As long as your belly's full, you won't bite the hand that feeds you."

"Oh, shut up, Rumple! You have no idea what it's like being sick like this. I was sicker than a dog for days and the itching is enough to drive you insane. I'd like to see how _you'd_ handle it."

"You forget, I've already been sick like that, so don't expect me to shower you with pity."

"I don't expect anything from you, you wretched coward!" she growled. "It's all your fault I caught this blasted disease in the first place! If you hadn't permitted Bae to play with that . . . that dirty little girl, I wouldn't be stuck here looking like some plague victim!"

"Val isn't dirty, and Bae caught this from the Thatcher boys, since they came down with chicken pox before he did," Rumple said defensively. "I sent Val away because Bae started showing signs of it first, or are you becoming forgetful all of a sudden?"

"A likely story! You just don't want to admit you're wrong, Rumple!"

"Ha! That's the pot calling the cauldron black, dearie!" he snapped. "Name one time you've _ever_ admitted you're wrong."

She glared at him. "I nearly died and this is how you treat me?"

"Spare me your poor me act," Rumple said. "You were nowhere near dying and we both know it."

"You're a terrible husband, Rumplestiltskin! I don't know why I put up with you!"

"I guess you like being a martyr, dearie."

"Get out!" she spat, groping for something to hurl at him.

"My pleasure," he said, and turned on his heel to leave, leaning on his cane.

Her shoe flew past his head and crashed against the table leg, making the vase of wildflowers wobble.

"Guess she's feeling better," Rumple said to Rachel. "Good day, Rachel. If she gets to be too much of a pain, shove her ass out the window."

"I'll consider it," the widow snickered, shaking her head at her houseguest, who was now swearing a blue streak.

Rumple found Bae holding Sassy on his lap and petting the large feline, who was purring ecstatically. "Bae, it's time to go. Tell Sassy goodbye."

"Aww!" Bae groaned and then he hugged the cat gently. "Bye, Sassy! I gotta go home."

Sassy mewed a little in protest, then sprang down from his lap and started to wash her face.

Bae walked beside Rumple as they headed back up to their cottage. "Did Mama like the cookies?"

"She did. I'm sorry she wasn't more appreciative of your flowers," Rumple said, feeling compelled to try and make his son feel better about his mother's rejection.

"It's okay. She's always grouchy when she's sick," Bae sighed. He should have known better. His mother hardly ever liked anything he made her, this time was no different.

"That's no excuse for her attitude," his father muttered. "Hey, I have an idea. Why don't we go fishing? All of a sudden I feel like fresh trout."

Bae smiled. "Really? You haven't taken me fishing in ages, Papa."

"I know. I've been too busy spinning. But . . . today is a good day, don't you think?"

"Yes! I'll find some worms!" his son yelled, and began to look for them by the roots of trees beside the road, where the earth was slightly damp.

**Page~*~*~*~Break**

_Val's apartment_

_Manhattan:_

Mrs. DeLuca had made her stay in bed for all of Tuesday and Wednesday, saying she needed to rest and eat some of her chicken soup and have calamine lotion put on all the spots in order to get better. Val had submitted to her treatment, though she thought Rumple's paste soothed the itching much better.

She also had hoped that he father would come and see her, as Mrs. DeLuca had told her he knew she was sick, but she hadn't seen him at all since he came home Monday afternoon. Well, he'd gone right back to work on Tuesday, but still she had crossed her fingers and made a wish that he'd stop by for a few minutes on his way to bed on Tuesday, but he hadn't. Now it was Wednesday night, and still she had seen no sign of him.

She had kept busy watching some Disney movies on TV and then playing with her stuffed animals and Amanda Willa. She had even done a few puzzles with Mrs. DeLuca at the kitchen table for a little bit before her caregiver had sent her off to take a nap.

Now she drowsed in her bed, one arm about her doll, having just read a chapter of Little House in the Big Woods by Laura Ingalls Wilder. She had just put the book down when she heard footsteps coming down the hall.

She looked at her princess clock on the nightstand and saw that it was nine-forty-five. That meant her father was home.

She sucked in a breath as the footsteps paused outside her door. Maybe he'd come in tonight! She hugged Amanda Willa hard.

Her door opened slightly and she saw a shadow standing there.

Her heart sped up excitedly. "Papa?" she called softly.

"Go to sleep, you're wasting electricity," came his response, cold and brittle.

The light clicked off, leaving her in the dark, save for the moon shining in the window.

Then the door closed and the footsteps continued on towards his bedroom.

Val sniffled sharply, crushed by his coldness. She buried her face in the pillow and whispered in Amanad Willa's ear, "I thought he might . . . say goodnight this time . . . but I guess not. I miss Bae and Rumple. But maybe tomorrow Mrs. DeLuca will let me play over there. I'm not that sick anymore."

She hugged the doll to her, the sweet scent of lavender tickling her nostrils and comforting her. She closed her eyes, recalling the way Rumple had held her the last night she had spent at the cottage, and the refrain of the lullaby he'd sung to her echoed in her head.

_Pretty girl, go to sleep, for the night is dark and deep, pretty girl, go to sleep, in the meadow, count the sheep, pretty girl, go to sleep, th'o dark is here, have no fear, for I am near . . ._

"Goodnight, Rumple. Goodnight, Bae. And goodnight, Amanda Willa," Val whispered to the night and the doll beside her. Somehow that made her feel a little better and she fell asleep with the scent of lavender surrounding her and the moonlight streaming through the window to fall across her pillow, dreaming she was being rocked to and fro, held securely in the arms of one who loved her.

**A/N: So now you've met Val's father. What did you think of him? And Milah's reaction to Bae's little gift? Thanks to everyone who submitted names for the doll. Hope you liked this chapter! **


	8. Trouble at the Market

**8**

**Trouble At the Market**

Val couldn't wait to go back through the portal on Thursday. Mrs. DeLuca was reluctant to let her go, since she still showed signs of the chicken pox, though nearly all of her spots were crusted over, but Val haunted her until she gave in, and sent the little girl with some brownies, tuna salad sandwiches, and three canisters of Pringles Light potato chips. She also sent a sealed container of her famous chicken minestrone and a loaf of Italian bread from Little Italy.

Val brought the suitcase and her doll through the portal. It was a beautiful summer's day, the sun was shining in a cloudless sky, and the air was filled with the perfume of blackberries ripe on the bushes. Val picked some and ate them while she waited for Bae to come.

In about five minutes, she heard a rustling and then Bae's head stuck out from inbetween the bushes. "Hey, Val! You came back!"

"Sure I did. I only stayed home the last two days 'cause Mrs. DeLuca made me," she said, grinning at her friend.

"Well, I'm glad you're back now. I was so bored I almost died," Bae declared.

"Me too. There's only so much you can do when you're stuck at home in bed," Val commiserated with him. "And you can't even read, like I can."

"I know. But Papa's teaching me the alphabet and he says I'll learn when I go to school in the fall," Bae said. He rubbed the side of his face, which had only one or two spots on it. "You look a lot better now than last time."

"You do too. Hey, you cut your hair!" she cried.

"Umm . . . yeah, Papa did that this morning. He said it was getting so long I looked like a sheepdog," Bae laughed. He shook his head, bouncing his newly shorn curls, which now came just to the middle of his neck and a little over the top of his forehead.

Val picked another blackberry and ate it. "Mmm! These are really good! Amanda Willa likes them too," she pretended to feed one to her doll.

"Is that what you called her?" Bae asked, also eating some berries.

"Uh huh. Mrs. DeLuca helped me name her. It means a lovable protector."

"That's a good name for her," Bae said. "We ought to come back here with some pails and pick these. Before the birds and squirrels get them. Then we can have blackberries and cream for dessert after lunch." He ate some more of them.

"That'd be fun. Now let's show your papa what I brought today," Val said happily.

As they crawled out of the thicket, Val asked if Milah were home yet.

"Nope. She's still sick with chicken pox," Bae told her.

"You mean . . . grown-ups can get it too? I thought only kids did," Val gaped.

"Yeah, if they haven't gotten it when they were kids. And Mama never did," Bae informed her. "So she's still at Widow Tyrell's house." He told her how they had gone to visit her and he'd brought Milah flowers and she hadn't liked them all that much.

"I should have gotten her candy," Bae sighed. "She always likes that."

Val rolled her eyes. "Your mom's a crab. And so's my dad. Nothing ever pleases them, no matter what."

"I know," her friend shook his head. Then he said, "Let's not talk about them right now. Let's just have fun today."

"Sounds good to me," said Val, and they skipped down the trail to Rumple's cottage, Bae pulling her blue suitcase behind him.

They burst into the cottage like twin whirlwinds, identical grins on their faces.

Rumple looked up from where he was spinning as Val cried, "Rumple, I'm back!"

"Hello, my pretty girl," he greeted, and held out his arms.

Val ran right into them, delighting in the way he held her close, like her father never did, and the way he smelled like leather, sandalwood, wool, and even a little bit like a fresh-squeezed lemon. He had been cleaning the floor with some lemon water that morning, and it still clung to his hands. The sandalwood was the scent of his shaving soap, which he had traded with a spice merchant for two spools of his crimson thread.

"I see you brought your doll with you," he said upon catching sight of her beneath Val's arm. "Did you decide on a name?"

Val nodded. "She has _two_ names, because she's very special. Her name's Amanda Willa. It means—"

"—a lovable protector," he answered. At her astonished look, he said, "I've always been good with names, dearie."

"I slept with her every night since I've been home," Val told him. "She keeps me from being lonely at night, since my papa always forgets to tell me goodnight and tuck me in."

"You mean he didn't come even when you were sick these past two days?" asked the spinner in horrified astonishment.

Val shook her head. "That first night I was home, Mrs. Deluca said he was really tired from working all weekend and then I guess . . . he just forgot, like usual."

The casual way she spoke of her father's callus neglect made him furious. How could anyone treat this brilliant loving child so cruelly, withholding even the most basic gestures of affection from her? Milah, for all her temper and selfishness, had occasions, mostly when Bae was younger, that she had cuddled and hugged her son. It was only as the boy grew older that she seemed to lose any patience with him, until now it seemed she had almost none left for her family any longer. But from Val's attitude, Rumple could only infer that Morinelli had never showed any kind of love or affection to his only daughter ever. What an unnatural cruel man, he thought, and gave the child another hug, as if it would make up for her father's lack of them.

"But don't worry about him," she said then. "Look what I brought you this time." She unzipped the suitcase to show him all the goodies she had brought.

They ate the sandwiches, chips, and brownies for lunch, and then Rumple accompanied them back to the glade to watch over them while they picked two pailfuls of blackberries, staining their hands and mouths with purple juice as they picked and occasionally ate some as well.

Once they had picked all the berries they could reach, and washed their sticky hands in the stream, they crawled through the thicket again to give Rumple their bounty.

"Now we can have blackberries and cream, Papa!" Bae said happily.

"And if I knew how to bake, blackberry pie as well," Rumple said. "Perhaps I can give some to Widow Tyrell and she can make us a pie, and herself too. What do you think?"

The children nodded eagerly.

They brought the blackberries back to the cottage, where Rumple portioned out three bowls and poured some milk over them and let them sit in the root cellar which was on the right side of the house, dug deep into the ground so it stayed cold even in summer. "We can let these sit here on the table and the milk will become thick and creamy while we walk over to Widow Tyrell's with the rest of the blackberries."

He gently shut the door to the cellar, and then they all walked down the road, the two children carrying the berry bucket and singing a silly song they had made up, trying to rhyme each other's words.

It went something like this:

"_Down the road I met a man named Fred,"_ Val began.

"_Whose horse had just dropped dead,"_ Bae continued.

_"He had no money, not even a cent,"_

"_Couldn't pay the lord's rent,"_ sang Bae.

_"Was poor as a church mouse,"_ Val warbled.

_"And the landlord was gonna take his house."_

"_If only I had something to sell, to get some gold,"_ Val added.

"_But all I've got is stale bread and some cheese with mold,"_ Bae replied.

"_And everything I own's got holes,"_ Val chuckled.

"_So what's a body to do? he sighed,"_ Bae sang.

"_Then he took out a pen and wrote to a friend,"_ Val cried.

_"Please help, give me something I can plant or tend,"_ the little boy sang softly.

"_Otherwise this'll be the end of me, and he gave the letter to the mailman to send,"_ giggled Val.

Then they arrived at the widow's house, so they never did tell what the friend sent, but Widow Tyrell was delighted with the fresh berries and promised Rumple she would make not only a pie, but blackberry turnovers as well. She invited them in for tea and cookies, but Rumple didn't want to let Milah spoil the children's mood, so he respectfully declined and said he had chores waiting at home.

They walked home, with Bae and Val gathering some flowers on the way, which Rumple put in a small jar when they got back home, it made the kitchen look colorful and bright.

The two children played on the rug with Bae's toy horses and soldiers and Amanda Willa, making Amanda Willa become a princess trapped in a tower by an evil witch, and the soldiers and the magic horse had to rescue her.

While they played, Rumple spun all the wool in his basket, making a lot of thread to sell at the market this coming Saturday, for the rent was due on the fifth of the next month, and he planned to have enough money to pay it and also some left over to buy a few extra things, like new shoes for Bae and maybe some taffy or sugar drops for Milah and a meal for all of them.

Once the soldiers had killed the witch and rescued Amanda Willa, Val halted in her play to watch Rumple spin, observing curiously as he deftly twisted the wool fibers and worked the wheel to create a soft even thread that wound about the bobbin in neat strands.

"That's so cool!" she praised. "I wish I could do that."

"If you were bigger, I could show you, dearie," the spinner replied. "But right now you're too little. But I can show you how to sew buttons, and card wool, right, Bae?"

"Yeah. That's easy," Bae said.

"How can you card wool?" asked Val, puzzled.

"I'll show you," Rumple said. "Bae, fetch the brushes we use, and the basket over there with the wool that needs carding."

Bae went and got the two large wooden brushes with the wire bristles and the basket of wool that looked all tangled and filled with dust and burrs. "Here, Papa."

Rumple took the brushes and said to Val, "Now, dearie, when you card wool, you clean it and make it straight so I can spin it. Like this," and he demonstrated with a bunch of dirty wool, combing the wool inbetween the two brushes, removing the small bits of dirt and other things and then pulling out the knots until it was straight and a soft cream color.

Val touched the carded wool. "Wow! It's soft!"

"Yes, it is when you do it right," Rumple said. "Now you try."

Val took the brushes and some wool and tried to do as Rumple showed her. At first she was clumsy, and the wool fell off the brush and onto the floor. And once the brushes got stuck together and she almost dropped them. But Rumple encouraged her not to get frustrated and said everyone was clumsy in the beginning when they tried something new.

Finally, after ten minutes, she managed to card a single piece of wool, and Bae clapped and said, "That's real good, Val."

"Can you do it?" she asked her friend.

He rolled his eyes. "Papa taught me how to card when I was five, of course I can," he said, then he took the brushes from her and carded a piece of wool in a few minutes. "See? It's easy once you do it for awhile."

"Let me try some more," Val said, and Bae handed her the brushes back. She picked up another tangled piece of wool and tried combing it. But the wool tangled in the brush's wire teeth and she scowled. "Why's it getting stuck?"

"Because you're not pulling it down enough," Bae said, then he put a hand over hers and showed her how to comb downward in an even motion, and that drew the dirt and grass out of the wool and made it lie straight. "There! See?"

Val nodded. Then she tried again, and this time was able to card the wool herself. "I get it now. This is kind of fun."

"You wouldn't say that if you had to do a whole basket," Bae groaned. "Then it's work and it's boring."

"Nothing's as boring as dusting," Val disagreed.

"Or washing the floor," Bae said.

Val carded another piece of wool. "Look! I did it!"

"Very nice, dearie! We'll make a champion carder out of you in no time," Rumple praised. Then he took the carded pieces and put them in his empty basket to spin later. "Bae, get me my button tin."

Bae ran over to the basket where the scissors and thread were and retrieved a small tin of buttons and a pincushion with a needle and some thread. "Here, Papa."

"Watch, Val, and I'll teach you how to make a necklace of buttons," said the spinner.

He showed the little girl how to thread the needle and tie a large knot in one end and then string buttons onto the thread. Then he handed her the needle with four buttons on it and let her continue.

Bae took another needle from the pincushion and his own piece of thread and started making his own strand of buttons.

There were all sorts of buttons in that tin—some were large, some small, some were made of tin, some of copper, some of shell, some of horn, and were in all different colors.

Val chose buttons of all sizes and shapes and colors, creating a rainbow on the string. At last she had almost reached the end of the string, and Rumple said to stop, otherwise she couldn't tie the two ends together.

He knotted the string for her. "Lovely, Val!"

Val grinned, admiring it. Then she turned to Bae and said, "Here. I made it for you."

"And I made this for you," he said, and they traded necklaces.

"I'll have to make one for Mrs. DeLuca," Val said. "Maybe tomorrow I'll do that."

"But now let's eat our blackberries and cream," Bae said.

"Thanks for reminding me," his father said. "I nearly forgot about it being down there."

He went out to the cellar and together they each carried up a bowl of the rich treat. They all ate a bowlful of the sweet fruit and thick cream, washed down with a cup of tea.

Then it was time for Val to go home, and she took her empty suitcase, Amanda Willa, and her new button necklace back across the portal to Manhattan, promising to return on Monday.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

On Saturday morning, Rumple put all of his spun thread and some handkerchiefs and scarves he'd woven into two packs and prepared a lunch sack with peanut butter and jam sandwiches, brownies, and chips for himself and Bae. Afterwards, he made them some fried eggs, bacon, toast and they had the last of the milk for breakfast.

Once the dishes were done and Rumple made sure Bae's hair was combed and his son looked presentable, they set out for the market. As a master spinner, and member of the Wool Merchant's Guild, Rumple had a stall every market day to sell his wares at, instead of having to rent one the way a non-member would have.

Since the market on Saturdays was busier than the other days of the week, Rumple made sure to spin extra thread and Bae wanted to help by making a few button bracelets to sell also. Rumple had him make five of them, and told him if any of them sold, the money was his to keep.

Soon they arrived at their stall, and Bae helped Rumple spread out the cloth over the boards so they could display their thread and other items. Then Rumple hung out their sign. It showed both a picture of thread and cloth and beneath it was the words _Fine Thread & Cloth by Rumplestiltskin_ with the stamp of a wheel next to his name, which was the Guild mark of a master spinner.

He and Bae carefully arranged all their goods upon the cloth, the thread on one side, the scarves and handkerchiefs and Bae's bracelets on the other. Rumple put their lunch in a corner of the stall and sat down on a stool, since his leg ached if he stood on it all day.

Next to them was Annie Weaver's stall, where she sold cloaks and lengths of cloth in all weights, colors, and kinds. On the other side was Elsie Mason's booth, and she sold embroidered goods, like napkins, tablecloths, handkerchiefs, shirts, and stockings.

Business was rather slow that morning, since not many villagers had gotten up to go to the market just yet, so Bae stood in front of their stall and called out in a clear voice, "Fine thread and cloth here! Come and get the best thread you'll ever see!"

"You teaching him early, Rumple?" laughed Annie as she set out her cloth. She was a plump woman in her early thirties wearing a soft cotton skirt in red and a blue blouse with a red kerchief over her brown hair.

"That was his idea, not mine," Rumple said, amused by his son's business sense.

"Maybe I ought to have my kids do that next Saturday," said Elsie, who was small and thin, with wispy blond hair wearing a green dress with beautiful embroidered roses climbing over the skirt and bodice. "They're running all over the place, it's their first time out since they came down with chicken pox last week."

"Bae had it too," Rumple said.

"So did my Martin," said Annie. "And he's thirteen and it made him sicker than dog. He's just now feeling good enough to get out of bed, poor boy!"

"Aye, it's always harder on the older ones, if they get it later," sympathized Elsie. "I heard your wife's got a case too, Rumple."

"Yes, she does," the spinner answered. "Though I think she's over the worst of it now. She's too ornery for any sickness to keep her in bed for long."

The two women nodded, familiar with Milah's sharp tongue and prickly temper.

They talked for a few more minutes, catching each other up on the news in the village before customers started arriving and perusing their wares.

Then Rumple had Bae come back behind their stall, so he could keep a better eye on both his son and his wares.

By midday Rumple had sold twelve spools of thread, five handkerchiefs, six scarves and one of Bae's bracelets. He gave Bae the two copper pennies he'd earned and as the sun climbed high in the sky, flipped his sign over to indicate the stall was temporarily closed, and opened their lunch sack.

Together, he and Bae ate the sandwiches they'd brought, as well as the chips and brownies, washed down with water from their small canteens.

Bae kept staring down at the two copper coins in his hand as if waiting for them to disappear. "Wow! Two whole pennies!"

Rumple smiled, remembering how thrilled he'd been to earn his first coppers as a boy, and said, "So what will you do with all that money, Bae? Spend it or save it?"

"Both!" his son said, his brown eyes shining. "I'll save one," he tucked a coin in his pocket. "And spend the other."

"That's a good decision," his father said approvingly, eating the last bit of his brownie. "I'll take you around later on this afternoon and you can see what you might like. We'll need to stop by Master Will Harding's booth and get you a bigger pair of boots for school too."

Bae smiled quietly. New boots _and_ a whole copper penny to spend! He felt as if it was his birthday.

After an hour, Rumple reopened shop, and was kept busy making deals with customers for the next hour or two. Then business slowed, allowing the merchants to get a bit of a breather, drink something, and stretch their legs.

He asked Annie to mind his stall for a bit while he took Bae to the outhouse and to have his feet measured by the shoemaker and order a pair of sturdy brown leather boots for the fall. By then Bae would have outgrown his old pair and Rumple could trade them to another family who needed shoes for their small children.

By the late afternoon, Rumple had sold all his handkerchiefs and scarves, nearly all his thread, and bartered another of Bae's necklaces for a bag of fruit flavored hard candy.

His son's eyes widened as he realized he wouldn't have to spend his penny on candy now, and could perhaps get a toy instead. "Is that all for me?" he asked Rumple.

"It is. Unless you want to share it," his father said.

Bae took out a piece and popped it into his mouth, then gave a strawberry flavored candy to Rumple, and said, "I'll share some with Val on Monday."

As Bae put the small pouch of candy into his tunic pocket, Milah's voice came from behind them. "Looks like you're not doing too badly today, husband."

Both men looked up in shock to see her standing there, with a mixture of rice powder on her face to cover any unsightly spots, her thick hair falling over one eye, wearing her usual ensemble of a brown skirt and white blouse with black slippers on her rather large feet.

Bae found himself clutching his tunic pocket, as if fearful she'd come and take his candy. With his mother, one never knew. But then his excitement over selling the bracelets was too much and he cried, "Mama! Guess what? I made those bracelets out of buttons over there and I got two pennies for one and . . . umm . . .something else for the other one."

Milah blinked. "Baelfire, what are you talking about?" she looked at her husband. "What sort of things are you letting him put up here, Rumple? Those?" she lifted a small bracelet and said with disdain, "These are nothing but buttons. People are probably buying them out of pity."

At her derisive tone, Bae shrank backwards, nearly falling off the stool he'd been sitting on. He hung his head, all his previous enthusiasm vanished, and whispered, "People thought they were pretty. The lady who bought one said so."

"They are pretty," Rumple asserted. "Don't listen to your mother," he growled. Then he glared at his wife. "You really are a piece of work, aren't you? Your son sells something for the first time in his life and are you proud of it? No, you sneer at him. You're a jealous witch!"

"I deal in facts, not fantasy, Rumple! Selling substandard goods will bring down our reputation and the quicker he learns that, the better. You'd have us selling paper chains and chalk drawings if somebody bought one!" Milah snorted.

_Oh no, they're fighting again. And it's all my fault, _the little boy thought sadly.

"Why don't you go home?" demanded Rumple. "We were doing fine until you showed up."

"I have a right to be here as much as you do!" Milah stormed. "So don't be telling me to go home, Rumplestiltskin!"

"Then quit bothering me and go somewhere else. People are staring. You're making a scene," he lowered his voice and snarled, his brown eyes glinting.

"I'll leave when I'm damn good and ready to leave," she snapped back at him. Her blood boiling, she grabbed one of the button bracelets and threw it at his head. "You want to see a scene, Rumple? Now _there's_ something to look at, you bloody coward!"

"Mama, don't!" Bae cried in protest. "My bracelet!"

Rumple had ducked and the bracelet had struck one of the poles at the back of the stall and broken all over. Buttons were everywhere.

Bae scrambled down from his stool and tried to pick them up, crying. He didn't know what was making him more upset, the fact that his mother didn't like his bracelets and had broken one, or the fact that his parents were fighting in public.

Next to them, Elsie was gaping at Milah and shaking her head, and so were a few customers who were examining her aprons and other items.

A furious Rumplestiltskin limped about the side of the stall and grabbed Milah by the shoulders and shook her. He was an inch away from totally losing his temper and doing something he'd sworn he'd never do—use physical force upon a woman. "You stop this childish behavior right blasted now, you spoiled little wench!" he said hoarsely, his eyes nearly amber with the heat of his anger. "I'm sick and tired of you thinking you can treat me like some doormat to be stepped on whenever you get into a snit. Or Bae either! Throw something at me again or lift a hand to me and this bloody coward will pull you across his knee and give you the spanking you deserve right here and now, and I don't care who sees it!"

Milah gasped, for Rumple had never put his hands on her in a temper before. "You'd not dare!" she hissed.

"Try me, dearie."

She stared into his eyes, having to tilt her head slightly upwards to do so, for he was about half-an-inch taller, and something in his brown eyes, hard and uncompromising, warned her against testing him. She'd never seen him like this, pushed to the edges of his control, and though she'd never admit it, it scared her a little. The old Rumple she could handle, could bully with impunity. But this one—this fiery eyed almost stranger—made her uncertain and wary. _This_ one might actually do as he said, and the utter humiliation of being treated that way—and in public no less—made her swallow sharply and back away.

She glanced around at the others watching, feeling her cheeks heat as she realized all of them were looking at her with disapproval and saw she'd get no help from them. In fact, they'd probably cheer him on were he to carry out his threat.

And there was something steely in his gaze now that whispered that if she challenged him, he wouldn't hesitate to do so.

She gave him a rather weak smile and said softly, "Now let's not be hasty, Rumple. It's just a little misunderstanding. I'll buy you something else to replace that silly bracelet, Bae. You'd like that, wouldn't you? I'll just be moving on now. I'll see you at home, husband."

Rumple jut nodded curtly, not trusting himself to speak.

Then he watched as Milah spun and walked swiftly away from their stall, as close to running as he'd ever seen her.

Several of the villagers applauded and one man said, "Aye, spinner, you showed her good!"

"'Bout time you put that snippy wench in her place," nodded another.

"Disgraceful!" sniffed Elsie. "No wife should treat her husband and child so! Good for you, Rumple!"

Rumplestiltskin felt an odd feeling in his chest then. It was pride, but not the sort that makes one vain and foolish, the sort that enables you to hold your head up among your neighbors and feel worthy again. And that was something he hadn't felt in a long long time. Not since he had returned home from the wars, and been denounced as a coward by Milah herself.

Then he felt a tug on his sleeve and looked down to see Bae standing next to him, holding the broken string of buttons in one hand. "Papa, I got them all. Do you think we can fix it?"

Rumple smiled down at him. "Of course we can. I can fix it in a flash." Putting his arm around his son, he limped back behind the stall and took out his small sewing kit, which he always kept in a pocket just in case, and began stringing the buttons on a new piece of thread.

In about two minutes, there was a new bracelet, and Rumple placed it next to the others on the table.

Bae tapped his arm again. "Papa, do you really think Mama will buy me a toy or something like she said?"

"She'd better, since she broke your bracelet," he answered.

Bae considered, then nodded. "Okay. Then maybe I'll save my other penny too."

"You do that, son. And after we're done here for the day, I'll get you a sausage roll and some ice cream." He knew Bae loved the sausage rolls Marlena Butcher made, which were sausage links with peppers and onions wrapped in a pastry crust and fried to a crisp. And the Peverells, who owned five cows, always made ice cream on market day.

Bae clapped his hands. "Yay! Ice cream!" He threw his small arms about Rumple and hugged him. "You're the best, Papa!"

Hearing that made the spinner feel the size of a giant, and he caressed his son's head a moment before he turned back to selling what remained of his thread, having met his goal for the rent and more this afternoon.

**A/N: So how did you like this one?**


	9. Sneaking Around

**9**

**Sneaking Around**

_Saturday morning_

_Val's apartment:_

Val woke up around eight-thirty on Saturday and quietly ran the water for a quick bath. She put in some honey and oatmeal bubble bath that Mrs. DeLuca had bought for her to soothe any lingering effects from the chicken pox and waited until the bubbles started getting high before turning off the tap and getting in. She soaked and played in the water with her Ariel, Flipper, and Tinker Bell bath toys for about fifteen minutes, then ducked her hair under the water, getting it all soapy.

Then she scrubbed at it with her hands, pulled the plug, and watched half the water drain away, before she turned on the tap again and rinsed her hair. She knew it wasn't half as good as when Mrs. DeLuca washed her hair for her, but it would have to do, since nobody else was going to help her. As she dried off with a big fluffy towel with Belle from Beauty and the Beast on it, she examined herself in the bathroom mirror. Her body still had some scabs on it from chicken pox, but most of those were starting to flake off. Rumple had told her not to pick at them, and given her a small jar of lotion which she now rubbed all over them so they would heal quicker and not leave scars on her delicate skin.

She sniffed at the lovely scent of lavender and lemongrass the lotion emitted as it was warmed by her body. She carefully put the cover back on the jar, it was like a jam jar, and hid it inside her dirty pajamas as she carried it back into her room, she didn't want her papa seeing it and asking what it was.

She was in luck, for he was still asleep, and she threw her pajamas in the hamper and put the jar of lotion inside her dresser drawer. She quickly got dressed, putting on a Disney princess shirt and shorts and her button necklace Bae had made for her. Then she made her bed like Mrs. DeLuca had taught her, picked up Amanda Willa, and went into the kitchen area to make herself something to eat.

Val knew how to use the toaster and the microwave, so she went and made herself an English muffin with peanut butter, grabbed a banana from the fruit rack on the counter, and a carton of chocolate milk from the fridge.

Then she carried her breakfast into the living room and watched cartoons while she ate her food. She had just finished her chocolate milk and placed the carton and banana peel neatly atop the paper plate, laughing at something Pluto had done to Mickey when her father's bedroom door opened and he came out and glared at her.

"Turn that damn TV down! It's so loud its making my head hurt!"

Val shrank into the sofa. She could tell just by the sound of his voice that Morinelli wasn't in a good mood today. He probably had one of his headaches, and when he got one he was grouchy as a grizzly.

"Well? Don't just sit there like an idiot! Move your ass!" he barked.

Val scrambled for the remote and turned the volume way down. "Sorry, Papa. I didn't know you had a headache." She prayed he'd go back into his room.

"I don't want to hear your damn excuses," he snarled, rubbing his eyes. "Where's my meds?"

He stumbled into the kitchen, reaching for the prescription bottle on the second shelf of the cabinet which contained his migraine pills. After taking one, he walked back towards his room, eyeing his daughter sharply. "You keep quiet today, kid. Not a peep out of you, y'hear, or else I'll beat your ass good."

"Yes, sir," Val cringed. _Please, Papa, go back to bed. I'll be quiet, quiet as the wind._

"What's this mess you made? I thought I told you not to eat in here?" he growled. "If this isn't cleaned up by the time I come back out here, you'll be scrubbing the floor with your tongue, got me?"

Val nodded rapidly, her heart hammering in her chest. Why hadn't she remembered that and thrown her trash out before he woke up? She knew better.

Her rapid movement drew attention to the necklace she was wearing.

Suddenly he was beside her, moving quick as a coiled viper. "What the hell's this? Some cheap junk you got from a vendor down at the park?"

"N-No. My . . . my friend m-made it for me," she stuttered, terrified.

"You don't wear trash like this," he declared, and his big hand closed about the necklace, yanking it from around her neck and snapping the string.

Buttons skittered all over the rug.

Val huddled into the sofa, wanting to cry, but knowing if she did, he'd probably slap her so she'd have something to cry about.

"Clean that up too. And don't ever let me catch you wearing trash like that again," he ordered, then he whirled and was gone into his bedroom.

Sniffling, Val knelt and began to gather up all the buttons of her shattered necklace, tears pooling in her eyes and running down her cheeks as she crawled on the floor. Bae's necklace was broken, she thought miserably as she carefully placed the buttons on the coffee table.

Then she went and threw her trash in the kitchen garbage can, trying unsuccessfully to wipe her eyes with a dishtowel. She got a small plastic Ziploc and put all the buttons inside it and put it in her suitcase. Maybe Rumple could help her fix it on Monday.

She turned off the TV, because after that she didn't feel like watching cartoons anymore. Hugging her doll to her, she went into her room, closed the door, and curled up in the middle of her bed, stuffing one of Amanda Willa's arms in her mouth to muffle the sound of her sobs.

_Sometimes I really hate my dad, Amanda Willa. And that means I'm bad, because kids aren't supposed to hate their daddies like that. But I do, so I guess I ain't never goin' to heaven an' seein' my mama again, only to hell where all the bad girls go. But then I was always goin' there since mama died 'cause I killed her, even tho' Rumple says it wasn't my fault._

Utterly miserable, she huddled on her bed and squeezed Amanda Willa tight, the fragrance of lavender tickling her nostrils as she wept and wished it were Monday, so her papa would be at work and she could go through the door and see Bae again. But Monday was two whole days away, and she prayed she could get through them without aggravating her volatile father and ending up with more bruises.

_I know. I'll get some peanut butter and bread and some water and I'll stay in here for the rest of the day. I'll pretend I'm a princess in a tower, locked up by a nasty troll, or I'm a survivor of a shipwreck on a deserted island with only my trusty friend Amanda Willa for comp'ny. And we have to be real quiet an' hide from the bad man-eating giant that's on the other side of the island._

And then, as she often did, she spun herself a fantasy realm to cope with her fear and sadness, because pretending she was someone else kept her from crying so hard she made herself sick.

_Please, God, keep Papa in the bedroom and asleep, and I promise I'll be good from now on. Please._

She waited a long time before creeping back out of her room and grabbing what she wanted from the kitchen and scurrying back inside, where she hid in the closet and hummed Rumple's lullaby to herself and clutched Amanda Willa to her, trying to remind herself she was a princess and had nothing to fear except the sleeping ogre in the room next door.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

_Rumplestiltskin's cottage_

_Fairy Tale Land:_

Stuffed full of sausage rolls and ice cream, Bae and Rumple walked home from the market. Bae had his two copper pennies in one pocket and his bag of candy in the other and half-skipped along beside his father, who leaned a little more heavily on his cane than he had that morning, since being at the stall all day had aggravated his leg, and it ached now as he walked home.

Rumple carried his two empty packs and his pockets jingled with the money he'd earned as well as the three bracelets Bae had made. He decided to save two to sell the next market day and give the other one to Val to match the necklace Bae had  
given her. In a small string bag was a round of yellow cheese someone had traded for two small spools of thread and in another was a plucked chicken, which they could store in the root cellar until they were ready to use it tomorrow.

Widow Tyrell had also stopped by and given him a whole blackberry pie and three turnovers as big as his hand. So now they had dinner and dessert for Sunday. All in all, it had been a good day, save for Milah's disgraceful display.

Thinking about his wife made his stomach sour, so Rumple tried to avoid doing so until they arrived home. He sent Bae down to the cellar with the chicken and the cheese while he entered the cottage, braced for some snarled invective or a threat to break his fingers at the very least.

Instead he found his wife sitting before a small fire, knitting a pair of socks, acting for all the world as though nothing had happened. She looked up at him, a touch wary as she met his eyes, and said, "Back so soon? Did you sell everything then, husband?"

"I did. We have enough money to pay the rent and some left over to put aside," he replied evenly. He wondered what she was up to, for Milah was never meek like dishwater. And he doubted that even his threat, which he had meant, would serve to cow her much.

"Where's Bae?" she asked then, looking about for the boy.

"Here I am, Mama," her son said, coming in the back door. "I was putting the chicken an' cheese Papa got in the cellar."

"You got food for tomorrow?"

"Yes, and Rachel made us some blackberry pies and turnovers also," Rumple said, putting down the plate and small sack he'd carried them in on the table. "What's this?" he asked as he spotted something else on the table beside the jar of flowers.

"That's for Bae. Bae, see the toy Mama got you," Milah cooed, sounding as if Bae were three instead of six.

Bae ignored how she spoke to him, however, pleased that she had kept her word. "Oh! It's a jumping jack! Thanks, Mama," he cried, his eyes glowing as he picked up the toy from the table.

It was a cunningly carved little man of wood with jointed arms and legs mounted on a stick. It was painted in colorful fool's motley of yellow, red, and blue, with bells on its hat, and about as big as his hand. The stick was as long as his arm.

Bae began to make the man jump by jiggling the stick up and down and flip over and do handstands. He went to his toy box and took out some of his wooden horses and soldiers and began to play with them in the corner of the kitchen.

Rumple dug a paper wrapped meat pie out of his pocket and said, "Here. I brought you this in case you're hungry."

"Why, how thoughtful of you, Rumple," Milah said airily. She took the meat pie, which was as big as her hand, and began to eat it. "I thought after your . . . sudden flare up, I'd get nothing save crusts to eat tonight."

"_My_ sudden flare up?" He raised an eyebrow. "You ought to know me better than that. I don't hold grudges and I would never starve my family."

Milah gave him a rather strained smile and then said, "Well, let's forget about that now, shall we?"

Rumple shrugged, thinking, _Oh, sure. Yet you can talk about **my** shortcomings till the cows come home, but gods forbid we should discuss yours._ But he didn't want to quarrel again now, he was tired and his leg was hurting him fiercely. He rubbed it absently as Milah finished her pie.

Milah saw and said, "Is that leg of yours bothering you again, husband? Is that why you were such a . . . beast to me earlier?"

"Yes, and no, it's not. You know perfectly well what caused me to lose my temper," he answered curtly, sitting down on his rocking chair and trying unsuccessfully to rub the cramp out of his leg.

"Yes, but that was just . . . a little misunderstanding, Rumple. You know that, don't you?" she laughed uneasily.

He eyed her, puzzled. "Let's not have that happen again, dearie. Or else you'll regret it." The slight warning in his tone was crystal clear.

"Of course not!" she stood up then and said, "Why don't I heat up a towel for your poor leg? And make some tea? I think we could both use a cup."

"All right," he agreed, since his leg was aching and he wasn't up to figuring out Milah's sudden change of heart right then.

Milah heated a small towel beside the hearth and filled the teakettle with water and hung it over the fire. As the water heated, she busied herself putting tea in two mugs, and slyly adding a pinch or two of sleeping powder to Rumple's.

Then she knelt and began to rub her husband's leg, thinking calculatingly that she wouldn't be playing this role for much longer. But for now she wanted to play the good wife, to cover up something.

Bae looked up from where he was playing and saw that for once his mama and papa were getting along with each other. He sighed in relief, thinking that maybe now his mama would behave since his papa had scolded her, just like he usually did after misbehaving. Although it was rather odd, since his parents had had plenty of quarrels before and that hadn't mattered to his mother a whit, she never seemed to change. But perhaps she realized something today and was trying to be better, he thought hopefully. He turned back to playing with his jumping jack.

Rumple was a little suspicious of Milah's sudden solicitousness, but he decided not to question it. Perhaps his sudden refusal to take her abuse any longer had caused her to alter her attitude slightly. Maybe Rachel had been right after all, and Milah just needed to be stood up to and shown he wasn't going to be made into a doormat for her to start treating him like a person and not a whipping post. He leaned back in his chair and took advantage of the fact that Milah was actually doing something good for a change, wincing slightly as her fingers probed his sore leg.

He hissed in relief as she placed the warmed towel over it and then poured the water into the mugs and stirred the tea leaves. She let it steep for five minutes then added some honey, adding more to her husband's to mask the slightly bitter taste of the sleeping powder.

She sipped her tea and gave him his, calmly sitting in her rocker and picking up her knitting again. As she counted rows, she eyed Rumple from under her lashes.

The heat from the towel and the tea he was drinking conspired to make him yawn and his eyelids droop slightly, he thought as he slowly rocked back and forth. _I really shouldn't go to sleep here. I need to get Bae tucked in bed and I . . .I have to . . ._

Milah smiled to herself as she saw her husband's head fall forward and his eyes close. Perfect! The fool had fallen asleep. She waited several more moments to  
make sure the powder had taken effect before she stood up and walked over to the door, grabbing her cloak as she did so from the hook beside the door.

"Mama's going out for a little walk before bed, Bae. You can stay up for a bit and play with your toys like a good boy till I get back, okay?" she called to her son.

"Okay, Mama," he answered, happy that she hadn't told him to go to bed yet.

Milah slipped out into the night, and walked swiftly down the path towards the village. The sky had darkened to evening violet and some stars twinkled overhead as she made her way through the village to the tavern near the docks where the fishing boats went in and out every day. Fishing and farming were the two main occupations in this stinking place, she thought derisively. And if you weren't doing that you were making textiles and fabrics, like her bloody husband.

Well, she was sick of the lot of them! She had gone over to the tavern before, to flirt with the sailors that sometimes came into port, since they weren't choosy about who they bought a pint for and took upstairs to the small rooms above the bar. And they didn't know who she was, and she was careful to never let them see much of her until they were alone, with the tallow candle guttering in the dish beside the bed.

Most of them asked no questions and knew how to have a good time anonymously, unlike her stick of a husband, whose touch she could hardly stomach any longer. Tonight she was in need of a pick me up after her humiliating dressing down at Rumple's hands earlier. The tavern would be just the place to find a drink and a man to forget about her troubles.

She entered the smoky tavern, keeping the hood of her cloak drawn close until she sat down in the far corner and slowly drew her hood down. She beckoned one of the servers over, a skinny waif about thirteen, probably a sailor's by blow. "Get me an ale and be quick about it," she ordered huskily, flashing three coppers at him.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, and was off like a shot.

He placed a large tankard of frothy dark ale beside her plate of nuts and she handed him a half copper in return. "Thankee, ma'am!" he said and sketched her a brief bow before running off to tend to another table.

Milah sipped her drink and studied the patrons about her. Most were half drunk and laughing or joking with their fellows. Some were enjoying a late supper of fish stew or a mutton chop smothered in gravy with potatoes, a few were betting on a dice game.

None of them, who were mostly sailors, caught her interest. She waited, perusing them slowly while she drank. The level of ale in her glass slowly went down to about half when she spotted him.

He was sitting sprawled in a chair beside a half-eaten plate of stew, wearing a red sash and the typical clothing of a buccaneer, tight breeches and a loose flowing white blouse and spit shined boots. He had a small dark goatee and long flowing dark hair. His eyes were sharp and there was hard edge to them that spoke of danger.

She licked her lips as she slowly looked him up and down. His bearing spoke of someone who was once rich, he was probably a disgraced second son or something taken up freebooting from the cut of his clothes and the sword he wore. He was trim, fit, and roguishly handsome.

Yes, he had definite potential.

She looked up and saw him looking back at her. A slow smile crept over her feature and she winked at him, tossing her curls.

He raised an eyebrow, scanning her and his mouth quirked with interest. He picked up his tankard and sipped, licking the foam off the rim provocatively.

She fluttered her lashes in a come-hither gesture.

He rose languidly and walked over to her, his steps slightly rolling, typical of a seaman just come from a ship, used to balancing on a rolling deck for most of the time. "Hello, little siren. You look lonely. Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all. You look bored. Perhaps I can help liven things up," she purred, peering at him from beneath her sooty lashes.

"Oh, I've no doubt about that. The name's Jones, love. Killian Jones."

"And what do you do, Mr. Jones?"

"This and that. I'm an adventurer on the high seas," he said, grinning at her. "And you? What are you called?"

"Siryn," she replied, using the name he had given her. Maybe later she would tell him her true one. If he proved his mettle. She tossed her curls again and gave him her most charming crooked smile.

"Charmed, milady," the scoundrel said, and kissed her hand. Then he settled in the chair opposite her and took a pull on his ale. This night was looking up.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Milah arrived back home just as the moon was at its apex, and found Rumple still snoozing in the chair, much to her relief. She quickly hung up her cloak and gave her husband a sneer of disdain. She was tempted to kick his bad leg hard, but held her temper. She didn't want to wake him, after all. She glanced over and found Bae curled up in her chair with a blanket around him.

She frowned at the sleeping child. "Both of you, millstones about my neck," she muttered. "But someday . . . I'll shake the muck of this place from my boots. You can wallow in this backwater for all I care, Rumple, you and the boy, who's just like you. Just you wait!"

Then, with a last sneer at her sleeping husband, she went up the ladder to the loft, to lie in her solitary bed and think about the dashing freebooter she'd met that night, who was far more of a man than Rumplestiltskin could ever be. She fell asleep and dreamed of sailing away with him, bidding farewell to this boring life and her mealy-mouthed husband and tiresome child.


	10. The Promise

**10**

**The Promise**

Rumple woke the next morning feeling groggy and stiff, though his leg had quit throbbing. At first he was puzzled as to why he was sleeping in his chair and not his bed, then recalled that he had fallen asleep there last night. _Why in hell didn't Milah wake me?_ he wondered, trying to massage the crick out of his neck.

Just as the muzziness was clearing from his brain, he heard Milah's shrill voice, not the greatest thing to wake up to in the morning, shouting at Baelfire.

"How many times do I have to tell you to put away your damn toys? I'm sick and tired of it!"

"Mama, I'm sorry! I fell asleep an' forgot!" his son sobbed.

"Yeah, well, maybe you ought to have _no_ toys and I ought to throw these in the fire!" yelled his mother as she suddenly stomped over to the fireplace, holding some of Bae's toy soldiers and the jumping jack in her arms.

Bae followed, sobbing, "No! Please! I'll remember!"

Rumple was on his feet then and grabbed her arm just before she would have flung the toys into the fire that was crackling in the grate. "Milah, for gods' sake! What the hell are you doing?"

She spun on him, her eyes narrowed to slits. "Teaching the brat a lesson," she spat. "I almost broke my leg when I tripped over one of these this morning, Rumple! So now I'm burning them!"

"Like hell you are!" he cried, ignoring Bae's wails. "Give me those! If he forgot, you tell him to pick them up and put them away, you don't destroy them." He grabbed the toys from Milah's hands. "And that doesn't happen all the time either and you know it."

"See? This is why the brat's the way he is!" she stormed. "Because you don't know how to discipline!" She glared down at Baelfire, who was still crying. "Knock off that crybaby stuff, you lazy little brat." Her grand tirade spoiled, she reached down and smacked her son hard on the behind. "Now you've got something to cry about!"

Bae howled.

"Milah, that's _enough_!" Rumple growled, putting the toys on his chair and then picking up his son. "He said he was sorry, now leave it be!"

"He ought to be spanked!"

"Over that? You're just mad that I interfered," Rumple snapped. "Now quit taking that temper out on him before I spank _you_!"

Milah backed off then. "I have a right to punish my child, Rumple!"

"Not when you use it for spite," he answered.

Her eyes flashing, she declared coldly, "I'm going for a walk to cool off! Make your own damn breakfast today!" Then she grabbed her cloak and slammed out of the house.

Rumple carried Bae over to Milah's chair and rocked him for a few moments, trying to calm the boy down. The little boy wept into his shirt, whimpering, "M'sorry . . . I'll r-remember, Papa . . ."

"Shh, son. It's okay. Just try not to forget again," he murmured, furious that Milah would traumatize the boy over something so trivial.

Gradually, Bae quit crying, as the stinging pain in his bottom lessened, and he rubbed his eyes and sat up on his father's lap, murmuring, "I . . . fell asleep here last night waitin' for Mama to come back an' that's why I forgot, Papa."

"You fell asleep here too? Where was your mother?"

Bae shrugged. "She went out for a walk an' tol' me to play with my toys, but she took so long I got sleepy. I climbed on the chair and waited for her to come an' I fell asleep there. I didn't mean to!"

"And she didn't wake either of us, huh?" Rumple sighed. "Figures!" He shook his head. "You okay now?"

"Uh huh," Bae nodded.

"Good. Now you go and put your toys away and I'll start making something for us for breakfast," Rumple said, setting his son down.

"Okay, Papa," Bae said, and scampered over to the chair and picked up half the toys and went to put them back in the toy box.

Rumple still felt groggy and as he walked over to the pantry to fetch the container of oatmeal, his eyes lit on the blackberry turnovers Rachel had made. He rubbed his eyes and thought, _Huh. We already have breakfast right here._ He picked up two of them and put them in a frying pan and put it on the spider over the fire to warm. Then he went out on the porch to see if one of the Peverells had dropped off their usual three bottles of milk in exchange for three spools of thread, which was a deal he'd made a long time ago with them.

Finding the milk there, he took it inside and poured some for Bae in his cup and then set the rest on the counter, he would put it in the cellar after breakfast. He then went and put the coffee pot on to perk on the other end of the stove. While things were heating and Bae finished putting away his toys, Rumple went to wash his face.

As he quietly shaved, he thought irritably how Milah's bad temper seemed to spoil everything. He had thought she was trying to turn over a new leaf last night, but this morning's fiasco had shown it to be a temporary thing. Rinsing his face, he came back and took the coffee pot off the fire and the turnovers also.

After he'd cut up one for his son, he called the boy to come and eat. Bae came, his eyes widening as he saw what there was for breakfast. "We're gonna eat turnovers 'stead of porridge, Papa?"

"Yes, since your mother left it up to me to make breakfast today and Widow Tyrell was kind enough to make these for us," his father replied, cutting up his own and eating it, and taking sips of his coffee.

Bae happily ate his turnover, thinking perhaps this wasn't such a terrible morning after all. Then he recalled the reason why his parents had been fighting and felt guilty over it. "Papa, I'm sorry I was bad an' made you an' Mama fight this morning."

"What?" Rumple paused with his fork halfway to his mouth, ate the piece on it, then said, "Bae, that wasn't your fault. You didn't make us argue, your mother did with her attitude."

"But . . . I made Mama mad when I forgot to put my toys away."

"Yes, and that was a mistake, son, but it wasn't the reason we quarreled this morning. I was angry because of how your mama reacted, she made a mountain out of a molehill, and when I called her on it, she went and smacked you out of spite, and I won't take that anymore from her. Bae, half the time we quarrel it's over how she treats me and you, and you have nothing whatsoever to do with it. She has a nasty temper that she thinks she can take out on anyone around her, and _that's_ the problem, son. Not you. I don't want you blaming yourself for something that's not your fault, Bae. Understand?"

Slowly, Bae nodded. Maybe he didn't have anything to feel guilty about then. Except he'd have to remember to put his toys away next time. And hope his mama was in a good mood after she came home today. As he ate his turnover, he said, "I like this breakfast, Papa. Let's have it again tomorrow."

"I wish we could, but we won't have any more turnovers after this," Rumple chuckled. "So enjoy it while you can. I know I am."

"Me too," his son said, and ate another piece, his little face stained with blackberry juice.

Rumple smiled at him from across the table, thinking what a note this morning had started out on.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Milah returned just after Rumple had gotten dressed in fresh clothing and made sure Bae was dressed also. She looked around the kitchen and sniffed, saying, "You didn't leave anything for me to eat?"

"There's a turnover right there on the table," Rumple pointed to it. "That's what we ate for breakfast."

"Oh," she said, and sat down to eat it, along with a cup of coffee.

"I'm going out to my shed and working on weaving some new blankets and shawls today," her husband said. "I'm also going to test a new dye I made. Bae, why don't you come with me and help me, okay?"

The little boy nodded eagerly. He liked to try and help like a big boy. "I can do that."

"Good. You watch him, Rumple, while I do some baking today," Milah said, glad that the brat was going to be out of her hair. Maybe she'd drug Rumple's tea again tonight and go back to the tavern. Killian was going to be there again, since his ship was in port the whole week, and they'd hit it off well last night. Recalling the way he'd held her made her tingle all the way to her feet, and she fought to keep from sneering at her husband as he took Bae's hand and went through the back door to the shed. She'd be counting the hours until she could see her pirate lover again. Now there was a man! He could fight, loot, and make love to a woman lustily, so different from her milksop husband, who was meek enough to give a lamb fits, and whose pansy ass methods of discipline grated on her nerves. But soon enough, her brat of a son wouldn't be her problem anymore, not if she could convince Killian to take her with him when he sailed.

Humming an old ship's chantey, she took out flour, sugar, and yeast from the cupboard and began to mix it in a bowl, dreaming about Killian's charming grin and roguish dark eyes that satisfied every wicked fantasy she'd ever had, unlike her coward husband, who went at bedsport the same way he did everything else, gently and calmly, _considerately, _with no real passion whatsoever. _It's nighty-night time for you again, Rumple. And this time I'll make sure the two of you are in bed before I leave._

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

As it turned out, she didn't have to add sleeping powder to Rumple's tea that night, because he was so tired from weaving and dying and so was Bae from helping, or whatever he'd been doing with his father, that they both went to bed early, soon after eating the blackberry pie Rachel had made for dessert.

Milah lingered over a second cup of coffee and another piece of pie after saying goodnight to them, and as soon as the clock struck nine, she was out the door like a shot. Tonight the siren and the pirate were going to play and have a good time. She knew Jones' head was turned by her, and she was determined to keep him that way. So when it came time to leave he couldn't bear to be without her, and took her with him, to get away from this boring village and have the adventurous life she'd always dreamed of, instead of being the wife of the village coward—even if he wasn't quite the coward he used to be—a master spinner whose greatest ambition was to be a good father and spin thread soft as silk. Well, he could have it!

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

On Monday, Val was so eager to go through the secret door that she nearly forgot her suitcase with the peanut butter, jelly, and bread in it, as well as the game of Candy Land and the broken button necklace. She had Mrs. DeLuca unlock the door to the penthouse and let her back inside so she could grab it, then she practically ran down the street to the park dragging it and holding Amanda Willa in her other hand.

"You're certainly in a rush this morning. Where's the fire?" Mrs. DeLuca teased as she trotted along beside the little girl.

"There isn't one, I just wanna play with Bae," Val informed her, her braids bouncing along her back. "I was bored staying in the apartment all weekend with only Amanda Willa to talk with."

"Your papa, he didn't talk to you, _bambina_?"

"Not really. Except to yell at me to turn the TV down. He had one of his headaches again and he was grouchy."

"All weekend?" Mrs. DeLuca queried, shaking her head.

"Yup. But it was okay," Val said. She'd mostly stayed in her room, except for brief trips to the kitchen to get drinks and throw out trash, and a few more trips to the bathroom. She'd hidden in the closet when she heard him puttering around in the kitchen, and he hadn't bothered to look for her afterwards. Val knew that as long as she stayed out of sight, she was safe from him, so that was what she did. She could do "be not seen and not heard" really well, which was what he wanted from her most times.

"Next weekend he is going to Pennsylvania again, so maybe you can stay over your friend's house, huh?" she suggested.

"I know. I can't wait. I'll ask on Thursday," Val said happily.

She waved at Mrs. DeLuca as she sat on the familiar park bench and talked to her friend, Colleen Delaney, and ran through the bushes and into the glowing portal only she was able to see, at least from the Manhattan side.

Bae was waiting for her as usual. "Hey, Val! I brought _you_ a surprise this time," he said when he saw her emerge from the portal.

"You did? Like what?" she asked, halting in front of him and laying the suitcase down.

"This!" he held out a button bracelet. "I made it for you, like the necklace, see it matches," Bae grinned. "I even made some to sell and got two whole pennies for it!"

Val took the bracelet and clutched it. "Oh, it's so cool, Bae! But . . . but my papa broke the necklace . . ." she started crying then. " . . . and I couldn't fix it!"

"Your papa broke it?" Bae gasped. "Why?"

""Cause he was mean . . . he said . . . it was trash an' he's always nasty when he gets one of his headaches . . ." Val wept.

"He sounds as bad as my mama. She smacked my butt yesterday 'cause I was crying 'cause she almost burnt up all my toys, only Papa wouldn't let her and he saved them," Bae told her.

Val stared at him in horror. "She woulda done _that_? Maybe she ought to get lost with my papa, Bae."

"Sometimes I wish she would," he sighed.

"I know. Sometimes I wish my papa would take a train and never come back," Val said.

"Don't cry, Val," Bae said then, he hated to see anyone sad, especially his best friend. "Papa can fix your necklace like he fixed the one Mama broke at the market on Saturday."

"She broke one too?"

"Yup. She threw it at Papa's head, only it missed and broke all over. And then Papa got mad and _yelled_ at her and made her promise to buy me a toy to replace it, but then he fixed it anyway. So he can fix yours too, Val. Oh, and here's half my candy. I got that for one of my bracelets, it was a good deal."

He handed her half of the bag of fruit drops, which she put in her pocket.

"Thanks! But . . . are you sure you want to give me all that?"

"Sure I do. You bring us food, and friends share, so we're even, like Papa always says," Bae told her stoutly. "C'mon! Let's go over to my house, Papa's spinning so he couldn't meet us here like always."

Val followed Bae through the thicket, shoving the suitcase before her, and being careful not to touch any of the spiny blackberry bushes as she crawled through them.

When she ran into the cottage, Rumple saw that she'd been crying, as tears streaked her face. Alarmed, he said, "What's wrong, dearie? You get prickers in your hands again?"

Val shook her head, ashamed that he'd caught her crying like a big baby.

"She was crying 'cause her papa broke her necklace I made," Bae informed him. "But I told her you could fix it."

"Of course I can," Rumple assured her, cursing her father in his head. "No need for tears, my pretty girl." He gently took her on his lap and hugged her, drying her face with his handkerchief. "Where is it?"

"In my suitcase, Rumple. But you don't have to do it now if you're busy," she began, not wanting to interrupt his important work.

"This? I can spin any old time, Val. Now show me your necklace," he said.

She climbed off his lap, reluctantly, because it felt so good when he hugged her, and handed him the bag with the broken string and the buttons.

Then she watched in awe as he knotted a new thread and strung the buttons on it and tied it together. "There! Good as new! Did Bae give you the bracelet?"

She showed it to him, holding out her tiny wrist. "Wow! You can fix _everything_!"

He laughed. "Only some things, little one. I wish I could fix my wife, but don't worry about her. She's not here right now, she went to help mend some nets or something down at the docks this afternoon, so she won't be back till supper. And we can have a little peace, hmm?" He playfully tweaked her nose, making Val smile.

He was glad Milah was out of the house, finally doing something other than complaining, and helping out her friend Sally Fisher. Perhaps spending the day with the woman would sweeten her temper, or at least tire her out enough to make sure she didn't pick a quarrel when she came home, he thought. "So, what have you brought today, Val?"

"I brought some more peanut butter and jelly," she said, and Bae gave a happy cry, because they'd used up the last jar and he'd been craving it since Friday. "And a new game too. It's called Candy Land."

"Neat! D'you get candy if you play it?" her friend asked.

"Um . . . yeah, but it's not real," Val laughed.

"You have enough candy, imp," Rumple told his son. "Unless you ate it all. But if you did, you'd be crying about how much your tummy hurt, so I guess not."

Bae shook his head. "I'm not a pig, Papa! I'd never do that. I gave half to Val."

"That's good, Bae. You should always share with your friends," Rumple said approvingly. He was relieved to see his son wasn't greedy like his mother. He took the peanut butter, jelly, and bread to put away in the cupboard. "Thank you, Val. If someone doesn't get their peanut butter fix they get cranky."

"I do not!" Bae objected. "I just said I missed having it on toast this morning."

"I was talking about your mama, not you," Rumple corrected him. "Don't jump to conclusions." He turned after shutting the cupboard and asked, "So, what's this game all about, Val?"

Val happily showed them how to play the popular boardgame, at least it was popular back in New York, especially with some of her classmates, and they had fun moving the colored gingerbread people all over the board, which Bae said looked good enough to eat and made him wish they owned a candy store.

"Good heavens, Bae! If we owned a candy store, your mother would eat up half our profits and I'd be dosing her all the time for a perpetual stomachache for stuffing herself, and I'd have to watch half the village kids like a hawk to make sure they didn't make off with the other half I hid from her!" Rumple chuckled. "No thanks! I'll stick to spinning, my boy, at least I can make money and better deals that way."

"Aww! You're no fun, Papa! I wanted to eat one of those chocolate peanut butter bars like that one there," Bae groaned, pointing to the board.

"How about I make you a peanut butter sandwich and you eat that, huh?" Rumple said, and playfully poked his son's tummy, making Bae giggle.

"No tickling, Papa!"

"Why not? You're delectibly ticklish, Bae!" Rumple smirked.

"No!" his son yelped, ducking his hand. "You'll make me wet myself, 'cause I gotta go potty!"

Rumple rolled his eyes. "Now he tells me. Well, go on then, boy, what are you waiting for?"

"For you not to tickle me when I go by," his son replied, then gave him a smirk and ran past him to the bathroom.

Val giggled. "Boys! Sometimes you're all silly."

"We are, aren't we?" the spinner smiled. "Now how would you like your sandwich, Val? With or without crusts?"

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

After lunch they played Tickle Monster with Rumple, where he chased them all about the cottage, and they ran shrieking to try and hide from him beneath the chairs and table. But they didn't try very hard, for half the fun was getting "eaten" by the monster.

By the time they called a halt, Rumple was panting. "Good gods, I must be getting old. You two have nearly tired me out."

"You're not old, Papa!" Bae objected. "Old's Granny Wilson, who sits in a rocker on the porch and babbles and counts her six teeth. You're only twenty-five!"

"Yeah, my papa's older. He's thirty. He's like over the hill," Val declared.

Rumple thought if thirty was over the hill to them, then poor Rachel, who was over fifty, must be pushing up daisies real soon. "Well, this old twenty-five year old has to get back and spin some thread, so why don't you two go outside in the backyard and hunt for ladybugs or lizards for awhile, hmm?"

"Yeah! I'll get the jars in case we catch something," Bae yelled, and ran over to the cupboard to find the empty peanut butter jars they'd saved.

Rumple poked holes in the tops of the covers with his penknife, and gave one to each of them, saying, "Now, whatever you catch stays outside, dearies. Milah will hang me if you bring any wildlife into her house."

"We know, Papa!" Bae said, then they stampeded out the door.

Rumple looked after them fondly, thinking that every day should be like this one.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

When Val was going to go home that day, Rumple knelt just before the blackberry thicket and put his hands on her small shoulders and said softly, "Just a minute, Valentina. I need you to promise me something before you leave, okay?"

Puzzled, she nodded. "Sure, Rumple. Like what?"

"I want you to promise me that if . . . something should happen . . . if your papa is mean to you again . . . that you'll come here to me," the spinner said, for he found he was having some misgivings about sending Val back through the portal this time, after hearing about how Paul Morinelli had treated her so disgracefully this weekend. "If . . . if he scares you again like that, Val, _please_ know that you can always come here. Will you promise me that?"

"Okay. But I hardly ever see him during the week, Rumple. He works late all the time. And . . . this weekend he's going away so I can stay here with you . . . umm . . . if that's okay?" Val said.

"That's fine, dearie," Rumple replied. He'd deal with Milah later over that decision. "Now, you remember what I said. You come here to me if your papa hurts you or something."

"Okay. I promise," she said, and hugged him. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

Rumple watched her go, his heart heavy within his chest. He wanted so much to keep her safe and sound forever, but she wasn't his to protect, and he had to let her go. He prayed the gods would keep her safe over there in New York, and if not, to bring her to him, and he would make sure her bastard father never found her. _By all the gods of the realms, I swear it._

**_A/N: See an almost fluffy chapter for you! Who thinks Rumple might need to make good on that promise someday soon?_**


	11. Spinner vs Pirate

**11**

**Spinner vs. Pirate**

All the rest of that week, Milah made an effort not to quarrel with Rumple, and to mostly ignore Bae and Val when she came over, save to say hello to the girl when she arrived at the cottage. For the most part, the two children did their best to stay out of her way, playing in the backyard and in the glade, going on small walks into the forest with Rumple, who showed them places where the deer drank and bunnies came out to play.

One day they visited Rachel Tyrell, and she let them play with Sassy and helped them bake sugar cookies with faces. Val enjoyed that, since she liked baking, and sometimes would do so with Mrs. DeLuca. It was bit different over here, without oven timers and electric ovens, but Rachel taught them both how to time things with her wall clock and check before something was supposed to be done so it didn't brown.

She gave them over half the cookies to take back to Rumple's cottage with them that day, and they tasted so good right out of the oven that they each had three of them, and then Rachel put the rest into a pie tin and wrapped a cloth round them to take back. "And ye make sure yer mama doesn't eat the whole plate and leave nothing for yer papa," she warned.

"I will," Bae said, knowing full well that was a distinct possibility. "I'm going to um . . . put them in _two_ plates, and one I'll hide for Papa and me."

"Here. Why don't I save ye the trouble, laddie, and jus' give ye two pie tins?" Rachel stated, and promptly got out another one. "Here, lassie, ye take this one." She gave Val one of the tins with cookies in it.

As they walked back home, Val said, "I'll pretend this one's mine, and hide it in the bottom of the cupboard while you put the other one on the table, okay?"

"Sounds good," Bae smirked. "I like Widow Tyrell."

"She's nice. She reminds a little of Mrs. DeLuca. You'd like her too, if you could ever come to New York."

"Do you think I might go through the door one day?" her friend asked.

"Maybe. If your papa says you could," Val said.

"Someday I'll ask him," Bae said, carefully carrying the pie tin.

When they arrived at the cottage, they found Rumple putting the finishing touches on a pretty cloak of robin's egg blue that he'd made for a customer. It was made of summer light wool, and lined with sateen, which was a cheap version of satin, and double whipstitched on the hem and sides to ensure durability. On the inside it bore the stamp of a wheel and a stylized "R" for Rumplestiltskin, master spinner, weaver, and dyer of cloth.

"That's beautiful, Rumple!" Val gasped when she saw it.

"I hope the cousin of Diara Brewer thinks so. It's a wedding gift for her, from Diara, who owns _The Mariner's Rest_ tavern by the docks," Rumple said. "My new dye took well, and Diara promised me fifteen sovereigns for it."

"Gold, Papa?" Bae asked, his eyes wide.

"Yes."

"Wow! We'll be rich! Almost," Bae whispered.

Rumple smiled. "Enough so that I can pay the next six months rent and the year's taxes and still have some to save for a rainy day, son."

"Mama ought to be glad about that," his son said. "Where is she?"

"Seems there was an accident down at the docks and Sally Fisher's husband is laid up with a busted ankle, so your mama's helping her with some baking and such today," Rumple said. It was Friday. "Hey, is that cookies I smell?"

"We baked with Widow Tyrell today," Bae said proudly. "And she gave us cookies to take home."

"But we have to hide one tin, so Milah doesn't eat them all," Val stated boldly.

"That's a good idea, dearie. But don't tell her I said that," Rumple said, laughing. He took a cookie out of Bae's pie tie and bit it. "These are very good! You two could open up a bakery."

"Rachel did most of the work," Val said, smiling. "We just made the faces," she told him, pointing to the sugar sprinkled faces on each cookie.

"We helped cut them out," Bae reminded her.

"It was fun. So was playing with Sassy," Val said happily.

"I'm glad you had a good time with Rachel, Val. I think she gets lonely sometimes, with all her children grown up and gone and her husband passed away," Rumple said.

"Maybe we ought to invite her for supper some time, Papa," Bae suggested.

"Yes, we could do that," Rumple mused. With the sale of the cloak, he could easily afford a good roast beef and asparagus, turnips, and some nice egg bread and strawberry tarts from Cindy Baker and they could all have a nice supper. Perhaps he could do that this weekend, since Val would be there too, and he could tell Milah it was a celebration for his first big commission.

"I'll be back tonight, Bae," Val was saying. "I just have to go home so Papa sees me there with Mrs. DeLuca. Once he leaves, I'll come back through the door."

"What time will you be doing that, dearie?" asked Rumple.

"Uh . . . probably around seven o'clock," Val guessed.

"All right. I'll make sure to meet you then. I just have to drop off this cloak at the tavern at six and by then your mama ought to be back, Bae," Rumple said. "She told me not to wait supper on her tonight, she'd eat with Sally, so—"

"Let's have cookies for supper!" Bae crowed.

"Cookies for supper?" his father chuckled. "How about some bacon, cheese, and tomato sandwiches instead and crispy fried potatoes? We can eat the cookies for dessert."

"Oh! That sounds so good!" Val sighed.

"We can save you some, right, Papa?" Bae asked then.

"Of course. You can eat it when you come back," the spinner agreed.

"Then I guess I'd better go," sighed the little girl. "It's four thirty." She picked up Amanda Willa from the chair. "May I take some cookies for Mrs. DeLuca?"

"Certainly," Rumple said, and placed three in a napkin and handed it to her. "Put them in your pocket, dearie. The amount of food that woman's cooked for us, she deserves a whole batch, but I don't want to hear Milah whining if I give away all her cookies."

"The ones she knows about," Bae snickered.

Val took the napkin and tucked it into a pocket of her pants, then she took her suitcase and doll back across the portal to Manhattan, giving Mrs. DeLuca the sugar cookies as they walked back from Central Park to the penthouse.

"Thank you, _bambina_!" said Mary as she ate one.

"I don't think they're quite as good as your spice drops, but they're not bad for the first ones Bae and I ever made," Val said.

"They are wonderful, Val, because they were baked with love. I can taste it," Mrs. DeLuca assured her. "Now let's get home so you can have a bath and pack then as soon as your papa leaves, we'll meet your friend and you can go sleep over."

"Yay!" Val clapped her hands. "I wish Papa would go away every weekend."

"So do I, _bambina_. So do I," Mrs. Deluca said fervently, for she did not like leaving Val alone with that man, father or no. It was strange, but she felt more comfortable leaving Val with those friends she had never met, God only knew why, than she did with Paul Morinelli.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

After Val had left, Rumple busied himself cooking supper for himself and Bae, making an extra sandwich for Val and also some extra fried potatoes for when the girl came back across the portal to stay over. It was odd, but he hadn't had to argue all that much with Milah to get her to agree to have the little girl stay, she gave in rather quickly, much to his surprise. Perhaps Val was growing on her a little.

He ate supper with Bae, and they both enjoyed the sandwiches with fresh tomatoes, crunchy bacon, and tangy cheese on fresh bread and especially the potatoes, which Rumple spiced with pepper, sea salt, and a bit of parsley and fried to a golden crisp in some butter.

"Mmm! Those potatoes are my favorite!" Bae declared as he ate a second helping of them.

"I should make them more often then," Rumple said. "They're easy enough to make."

After they had washed the dishes, Rumple waited until quarter of six for Milah to come home, muttering when it looked like she was going to be late. "Bae, maybe I ought to drop you off by Rachel's house. I have to be over at _Mariner's Rest_ to deliver that cloak and your mama's not home yet and I don't want to take you to the tavern with me, it's no place for kids, dearie."

"That's okay, Papa. Widow Tyrell and I'll have cookies and tea till you come home," said Bae calmly. He was actually kind of happy his mama wasn't home yet, that way he wouldn't have to be alone with her.

"Come on then, son. Let me get that cloak and let's start walking," Rumple told him. He couldn't believe Milah was late. She knew he had to make this delivery.

Once he had dropped Bae off at Rachel's place, thanking the widow for agreeing to his sudden request, Rumple limped rapidly down the main road of the village. He was stretching his leg walking so fast, but he wanted to get to the tavern promptly, deliver the cloak, and receive his payment. He wanted nothing to go wrong with this commission. If all went well, perhaps it would be the start of a new business venture for him and increase his reputation as a first class spinner and weaver. Then perhaps Milah would be more content and not as irritable and quarrelsome.

Upon reaching the tavern, he found Diara Brewer waiting for him behind the bar. She exclaimed in delight over the cloak, saying it was just what she'd wanted as a gift and paid him the fifteen sovereigns and two extra for the prompt delivery.

"I'll be sure to tell all my relatives about your fine work, Rumple!" she cried happily.

"Thank you, Diara," Rumple said. "Your business is always welcome." He tucked the pouch away inside a secret pocket in his tunic, where thieves couldn't reach it. Not that there were many pickpockets here, but better safe than sorry. "I have to get going. Milah was late coming home from the Fisher's place, and I had to drop Bae off with Rachel Tyrell, I need to pick him up and get on home since he's having a friend sleep over this weekend."

Diara frowned then and called after the spinner, "Rumple, if you're looking for Milah, I saw her down at the docks a little bit ago. She was talking with some sailor by the name of Killian Jones."

"Jones?" Rumple repeated. "Why on earth would she be doing that?"

Diara shrugged. "Dunno, dearie. All I know is he's been here for the week, rented out my best room, and she's been here a few times to talk with him."

"Who is he, Diara?"

"He's what's known in nautical terms as a freebooter, captains his own vessel, but he don't care too much what kind of cargo he carries, if you catch my drift."

"In other words, he's a pirate," Rumple translated.

"Yeah, and he's got a reputation as duelist and a rogue," Diara warned.

Rumple began to get a cold feeling in his chest. "And you say you saw Milah with him?"

"'Fraid so, dearie. Be careful, Rumple. Jones isn't one to cross. He's left bodies in his wake."

"Thanks for the warning, dearie. I'll watch my back," Rumple said softly. As he turned to go, he wondered if Milah had been telling the truth about Sally Fisher. Maybe it had all been a pack of lies and she was really meeting with this Killian Jones. He felt slightly ill, thinking he had trusted her and she had been playing him for a fool all this time, cuckolding him with this pirate.

He was almost tempted to go back home, but some insatiable curiosity encouraged him to turn towards the docks instead, where several ships were moored, including a large brigantine flying a black flag with the Jolly Roger on it. Rumple felt his stomach tighten. He knew what that flag meant. That was a pirate vessel.

He limped purposefully towards the docks, clutching his cane as if it were a weapon, cursing his own curiosity. He had never felt more vulnerable, carrying a fortune in gold on his person, he ought to be on his way back home to get Bae and meet Val, not down here chasing after his wayward wife and risking his neck among these thieving pirates.

_Let her go. If she's here, she's chosen her own fate, _a small voice whispered in the back of his mind.

He knew that was so, and suspected he was right, but he had to see for himself.

He passed several sailors loading crates and cargo on the ships, using hoists to lift trunks and rolling barrels of water, rum, and salt pork onto the gangplanks and into the hold. For the most part they paid no attention to the crippled spinner, and Rumple passed unmolested among them.

He saw no sign of Milah, and was just about to turn around and go back, when he heard a familiar laugh up ahead. His blood turning icy hot, he limped forward.

There was Milah, hanging on the arm of a tall dark-haired man wearing the loose blouse and tight breeches of a freebooter. The man had a red sash with a cutlass in it and a gold earring in one ear. He was grinning lasciviously at Milah, who was practically curled in his arms, her long curly hair falling over his shoulder, laughing at something he said.

Rumple felt for one moment as if a horse had just kicked him in the gut.

Though his relationship with his wife had not been intimate for quite some time now, months and months in fact, he had never considered breaking his marriage vows to lie with another woman. Not that any woman would have ever dared risked Milah's temper to offer herself to him, not to mention the fact that his leg and reputation as a coward made women look upon him as something less than desirable, he himself would have never encouraged such a thing. Despite their differences, he would never insult his wife that way.

Clearly she didn't feel the same about him. He felt his face heat as he realized the two were quite familiar with each other, this was clearly no chance meeting. They'd met before. He wondered bleakly how many people knew about them, how many people were whispering behind their hands at how stupid Rumplestiltskin was, not to know his wife had put horns on his head with a pirate.

So this had been where she had gone all those hours, he thought, half-angrily. Not to be charitable to a neighbor, but to meet up with her lover! How they must have laughed, at how easy it had been to fool the crippled spinner, who stayed home like a woman to watch her son while she played quick and loose with this rogue.

Yet as soon as the anger had come, it died. He found himself almost indifferent after he thought about it for a moment. Diara's warning flashed through his head as did the fact that she'd chosen to abandon Bae and he was the only adult there to take care of him if she got on that ship with Killian Jones. He couldn't afford to let himself be killed over a faithless whore.

He was about to turn away, when he stumbled a bit on the uneven wood planks and just caught himself on a piling.

The sudden movement had Jones and Milah turning to look behind them.

Milah turned the color of old cheese. "Rumplestiltskin!" she gasped.

"Who's that cripple, love? A blast from the past?" laughed Jones.

"He's my . . . husband," Milah hissed.

Jones raised an eyebrow. "Oh? That's the one you were telling me about? The spinner coward?" He sneered at Rumple, his eyes gone dark and hard, cold as arctic ice. "Have you come to win her back, spinner?"

Rumple lifted his head, eyeing the other calmly. "Why, Jones? Have you tired of her then?"

"Never! But I hear she's a bit more woman than you can handle, coward! So . . . want to fight me for her?"

"You want me to fight a duel over her?" Rumple repeated incredulously.

"Why not?" laughed the pirate. "Don't you think she's worth it, spinner? Or are you too afraid? A man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets."

Rumple stiffened. "Interesting philosophy, dearie. But you're barking up the wrong tree, Jones. I'm not afraid to fight you. I just don't think it worth my time, pirate. You want her, you're welcome to her, as far as I'm concerned."

"What are you saying, Rumple?" Milah snapped.

He eyed her coldly. "I'll put it in terms you can understand, dearie. You made your bed, Milah, now you can lie in it. I hope you enjoy the stench of fish and seaweed."

"Are you insulting my woman, spinner?" growled Jones, fingering his cutlass.

"No, pirate. I'm bidding farewell to the woman who was once my wife. I hope you enjoy nagging bitches, Jones. Because she can get pretty loud when she doesn't get her way, and ship's quarters are tight. And she also likes to throw things, so be prepared to duck often. So don't say I didn't warn you. Oh, and one other thing. You can't give her back. Once she steps foot on your ship, she's all yours."

"Then you don't care that I'm leaving?" Milah demanded, shocked.

"Do you expect me to cry and beg you to stay, dearie?" he sneered suddenly. "To run myself through on your buccaneer's blade to satisfy my honor? Sorry to disappoint you, dearie, but you're not worth the effort."

"What sort of man are you?" Jones scowled.

"A man with a small boy to look after who doesn't have time to waste on lying wenches. I'd pay you to take her away, Jones, but I don't have the coin to spare. Enjoy yourself, Milah. I hope he's all you've ever dreamed of. But like I said, if you get sick of him, don't come back home all smiles and forgiveness. I don't deal in used goods. We're done, dearie."

With that parting shot, Rumplestiltskin turned away, his head held high. The sick feeling in his gut had gone away and all he felt now was a kind of relief. Until he recalled that he'd have to tell Bae that his mama had up and left them, and then his stomach flipped over. Perhaps he'd wait till tomorrow to break the news. Val would be coming and he didn't want to deal with two upset children right then. Let them have tonight to enjoy each other's company and he could take Bae aside tomorrow and talk to him then. Hopefully having Val there would soften the blow somewhat.

As he limped down the docks back towards the village, there were some murmurs starting behind him. He ignored them, figuring if they wanted to whisper about his cowardice to let them do so.

He never realized that more than half of them were complimentary, for most of them had heard what he'd said to Jones, and they admired his coolness in the face of that scoundrel, who was known as a killer up and down the coast, and the crippled spinner had faced him down without flinching. Perhaps, they whispered, they'd been mistaken, and Rumplestiltskin was no coward after all, just an honest man cuckolded by a deceitful wench.

**A/N: Who wants to throw a party now that Milah's gone? Woo-hoo! How did you like that scene between Jones and Rumple there? Who thinks Rumple kicked his ass verbally, huh? I'm rather miffed because my DVD player just broke and I couldn't watch season 2 of OUAT, so please leave me some nice reviews to make up for it, okay? PLEASE!**


	12. Reactions

**12**

**Reactions**

Bae was so happy to see Val again for the weekend that he hardly noticed Milah was still gone when Rumple returned from the docks and mumbled something about Milah not coming home. They picked up the little girl from the glade and Val came back with them to the cottage. She was so excited to be away from her father and that apartment that she almost couldn't sit still as she ate the meal Rumple had saved for her. She felt like she had too much energy and jittered in her chair until she feared being yelled at to sit still.

But Rumple was sort of still in shock over Milah, and so just said mildly, "Relax, dearie! You're like a firefly all jumpy."

"Sorry! I just am so glad to be staying here," Val said, her face smeared with butter from the potatoes.

"Me too! Let's catch fireflies after you finish eating," Bae suggested. He went and got the peanut butter jars they had used earlier to catch ladybugs, letting them go and coming back inside with the empty containers. "Papa, can we do that while you watch from the porch? Please? Please?"

"Of course, son," Rumple answered. He certainly wasn't sorry Milah was gone, but he was feeling rather blue about having to explain the situation to his son. What if Bae blamed him for Milah leaving? It was hardly his fault she'd lit out for greener pastures but . . . there was a nagging voice in the back of his head that whispered maybe he could have done a better job patching up the holes in their marriage. Realistically, he knew that his marriage had been on the rocks for a long time now, and nothing he could have said or done would have saved it, for they simply didn't love one another any longer, but it didn't stop the pangs of guilt from gnawing at him.

Now his son had no mama, and he worried about how Bae would feel. Granted, Milah hadn't been a very good one, but still, she'd been there. Was no mother better than some mother?

Fingering the coins in his pocket, he realized he'd better lock them up, and got out his cashbox while Val and Bae chattered about fireflies and ate half the cookies on the table. He carefully stacked the gold sovereigns inside—his first really important commission—and smiled a little. He wondered idly what Milah would have done had she known about the sale of the cloak. She probably would have slammed him over the head and run off with it, he thought, rolling his eyes. He hoped she suffered terribly from seasickness and Jones had to deal with her whining and ill temper all the way till the next port!

He limped out on the front porch to watch from the bench, absently munching a handful of cookies and drinking a glass of milk as he watched Bae and Val running through the grass, holding their jars.

Fireflies winked and glowed like fairy dust in the cool evening, and the two children ran hither and yon across the yard, giggling as they tried to catch the winking insects.

Gradually, Rumple allowed the peace of the evening to steal over him, and resolved to think no more about his former wife tonight. The breeze ruffled his sleek brown hair and caressed his face like a lover's fingers. He smiled as he watched Bae cup a firefly out of the air and then into his jar, clapping the lid on so the bug remained trapped.

"You got one!" Val shouted. Then she squealed as one landed on her arm. "Come here!" she yelped and then hers went into her jar.

Soon both children had at least ten fireflies winking and glowing in their jars. They compared them, arguing a little about who had the biggest and the one that glowed the most.

Then they brought their catch back to show Rumple.

"Those are beautiful specimens, dearies!" he praised. "But soon you'll have to let them go, or else they'll die in the jar."

"How come, Papa?" asked Bae, he'd been hoping to keep the jar next to his bed.

"Because fireflies are meant to be free to fly in the open air. They don't like being cooped up, anymore than you did when you were sick," Rumple explained.

Val nodded. "I think they're pretty, but I don't want them to die." She opened up her jar and let hers go.

Bae followed suit, and Rumple smiled at the cloud of fireflies surrounding the two children like will-o-wisps before they blinked and flew away. So innocent and carefree, he mused. At least for now. "Come, children. You two need to get washed up and into your nighties. It's almost bedtime."

Levering himself up from the bench, he'd grown a little stiff, he held open the door and the two ran inside.

"Me first!" Bae yelled, running over to the wash basin in the corner of the kitchen.

"No, me!" Val argued and splashed him gently with the water in the basin.

Bae splashed her back, but before a water fight could start, Rumple said, "I'll tell you a story, but only if you'll behave."

That nipped any mischief in the bud, and since the two children were normally well-behaved, they finished washing up and got into their night clothes without much of a fuss. Then they scampered up to the loft and waited while Rumple lit the lamp, and crawled into his bed.

With a child snuggled on either side of him, the spinner told an old tale about a princess finding a frog in a well, who was under an enchantment, and she promised the frog to treat him nicely in return for getting her golden ball back. "Because she had given her word, and when you do that, dearies, you must keep it, because your word is your bond, and an honest man worth more than gold."

Val and Bae listened as he told about how the spoiled princess wanted to go back on her promise to the frog, and had to have him eat beside her and even sleep on her pillow at night!

"Mama would have a fit, having a frog do that!" Bae predicted. "She'd have kicked it and the princess right out of the castle."

"So would my papa. He hates wildlife. He even throws rocks at the pigeons on the sidewalk," Val whispered. Then she snuggled closer to Rumple.

Sensing his charges' eyes were about to close, Rumple began to sing a familiar lullaby and soon the two children were sound asleep. He was growing sleepy himself and soon he drifted off as well.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

All of them slept past sunup the next morning. Bae woke up first and pattered down the ladder to use the bathroom. When he emerged from it, he was surprised to see his mother wasn't home yet. Usually she was awake and had the fire going and was starting breakfast. He hopped a bit on one foot since the floor was chilly. Then he went to look for his slippers, which he'd placed beside the table last night.

He was just putting them on when Rumple climbed down from the loft. "Morning, Papa!"

"Good morning, Bae," Rumple greeted. "Let me get the fire started and some tea on and then I need to talk to you a bit."

"Want me to get the oatmeal?" Bae offered.

"Yes, please do," Rumple said, glad that his son was willing to help, as this would be just the two of them from now on. He busied himself starting a fire from the banked coals last night. Once that was started, he filled the battered copper kettle with water and then went and gathered the milk and eggs on the porch left from the Peverells and Sara Zimmer, who had three dozen hens and always gave a dozen eggs to Rumple as he did mending for her, since she had bad eyes and couldn't sew a straight seam.

After he'd set the eggs and milk on the cupboard to be put away later, Rumple knew it was time for the talk he'd been dreading. He turned as Bae handed him the oatmeal and measured three handfuls into the old cauldron and then got water from the well outside and filled the pot. Then he pushed it onto the fire and let it simmer, shoving in the long handled wooden stirrer as well.

Bae looked up at him and said, "Where's Mama? I thought she'd be home from the Fishers by now."

Rumple sighed and said, "Come over here, Bae. I've got something to tell you." He sat down in his chair and took the little boy on his lap. "Mama's . . . well, she's not coming home, Bae."

Bae looked puzzled. "How come? Is she sick again?"

"No, son. She . . . left last night. You see, I went to deliver the cloak to Mistress Brewer and on the way back I . . . saw her walking with . . .a pirate by the name of Killian Jones. When I called out to her and asked her what she was doing, she said she was leaving with him. She's gone, Bae. Gone aboard his ship and she's . . . not coming back."

Bae was stunned. "Not . . . not ever?"

Rumple shook his head. "No. She said . . . this life wasn't for her and so she left."

Bae found himself suddenly angry. "That's it! She just left? She didn't even say goodbye to me!"

"I know, son. Your mother was selfish and cruel to treat you like that."

"I guess she was glad to go. She was always yelling and throwing things at you, Papa."

"I know. Your mother was never very happy with me."

"Or with me either. I guess she never loved us."

"Maybe she did, Bae, a long time ago. But once I came back from the wars, she let bitterness and anger dry up all the love she had for me. And maybe even for you too."

"Because I was bad, right? That's why she left," Bae whispered.

"No, son. Don't ever think that," Rumple began swiftly. "She left because she wanted something I could never give her, a life of adventure. It was not because of you. You were a good son to her. But she wasn't a good mother to you. I'm sorry for that, Bae. Sorry that she hurt you, but never ever think it was your fault she left."

"I'm glad she's gone, Papa! Glad!" Bae cried. Then he flung his arms about Rumple's neck and burst into tears. He wasn't exactly sure why he was crying, except that even as he said he was glad she was gone, in a way he missed her. And he also knew that a part of him _shouldn't_ be glad. Confused and upset, he wept into his father's shoulder.

Rumple just hugged and rocked him, rubbing small circles on his back. He felt terrible, and cursed Milah roundly in his head for hurting his child yet again.

Bae didn't cry for long, especially since the more the thought about it, the more he found he didn't really mind his mother being gone. Now there'd be no one to start fights with his papa, and no one to scream and throw things, and call Rumple a yellow-bellied coward. There would also be no one to smack him over nothing and call him a lazy good-for-nothing brat. Maybe, after all, it was a good thing that she was gone.

He abruptly wiped his eyes and sat up. "Papa, now that it's just the two of us, can we still invite Widow Tyrell for dinner? And can Val stay over more too?"

Rumple nodded. "Yes to both questions, Bae. The house will feel a little different with your mama gone but I'll do my best to make this a happier home for you."

"We'll be okay, Papa. We're men, we can handle it," his son said, and gave him a tentative grin.

"You're right, lad," Rumple chuckled. "Now why don't you go and set the table? I need to stir that porridge." Ah, the resilience of children, he thought. Perhaps he could take a lesson from Bae, and let the guilt he felt for depriving his son of his mother go. After all, it wasn't like Milah had ever been a great mother anyhow.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

It was when they were playing dragons and princesses while Rumple spiced a roast beef and put it into the oven along with some potatoes, carrots, and onions, that Val finally asked Bae where Milah was.

"Is your mama coming home soon?" she asked worriedly, wanting to prepare herself in case Milah walked through the door.

Bae shook his head. "Nope. Not today and not ever."

"Huh? Did . . . something happen to her?"

"Yup. Papa said she left us, went on a ship with a man named Jones and she'll never be back." Bae galloped a knight across the rug.

Val gaped. "You mean, she just ran off?"

"Uh huh. And I don't care, Val. She never really wanted to stay here anyhow." Bae answered, his small face serious. "She never loved Papa and she never loved me either. So now it's just the two of us."

"Oh. I'm sorry . . . well, not really . . ." Val said awkwardly. "I mean . . . umm . . ."

"I know. It's hard to be sorry when she was so nasty to you that she's gone," Bae said. "I'm sort of sorry . . . but not much . . . know what I mean?"

"Yeah. It's like I'd be if my papa was gone," Val sighed.

"Uh huh. Now let's play, Val." Bae said, he didn't want to even think about Milah any more.

"Okay." She made Amanda Willa run across the rug, yelling,"Help! Help! The maneating tiger's after me!"

Bae growled realistically and made the wooden tiger chase the doll.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Rumple invited Rachel for dinner, and they all had a great time eating the roast beef, gravy, and vegetables. They had Rachel's carrot cake for dessert and coffee. Rachel had asked discreetly where Milah was, and Rumple had told her about his wife leaving. The widow wasn't surprised when he informed her whom Milah had left with. "Aye, Rumple, ye're better off wi'out her, I say."

"I know. Bae will be much happier now, and so will I," the spinner said.

The next two days were peaceful and Val and Bae enjoyed helping Rumple dye cloth and getting splattered with dye. Then they had to get a bath, and Rumple filled up the bathtub and shaved flavorful lavender and lemongrass soap into the water. The water didn't get quite as sudsy as it did when Val used her bubble bath at home, but she had fun splashing and playing with Bae in the water after Rumple had washed them.

"Now you need a bath too, Papa!" Bae giggled.

"I'll take it after you," Rumple said, smiling.

They had popcorn in front of the fire that night and played Go Fish until Val's head was nodding and Rumple had them both go to bed in his big bed and slept in Bae's single one.

The next morning Rumple made pancakes and bacon for breakfast. Val ate until she was full and longed to never have to go back to Manhattan again. She bid Bae farewell, somewhat teary-eyed, and jumped back through the portal, Amanda Willa clutched in her arms.

She was broody all afternoon, and Mrs. DeLuca put her to bed early, sensing she was upset, but Val refused to tell her why. The little girl was sleeping when Morinelli came home, irritable as usual from the long drive, and he practically chased Mary out the door.

Mrs. DeLuca went, though she vowed to be there early tomorrow, so as to spare Val having to deal with Morinelli's nasty moods. But when she arrived home, she found police at her apartment, and the officer told her that her husband was at Columbia, he had been in a bad accident and was in surgery for a ruptured spleen. Mary took a ride in a squad car to be at the hospital and fill out paperwork, her heart still and frozen within her, praying that her husband would be okay.


	13. An Out of Sorts Day

**13**

**An Out of Sorts Day**

_Val's apartment_

_Manhattan:_

Mary had to take a cab back to the Morinelli penthouse that morning so she could inform him that she could no longer watch Val for the foreseeable future and he would have to look for a replacement, since her cell had died sometime during the night. Her husband had come out of surgery fine, but was still weak and injured and would require another few days in the hospital. During that time, she could watch Val, but after that, he would require home care and she would no longer be available. This concerned her greatly, but she was helpless to do anything about it. Her husband needed her and she couldn't afford to hire a private nurse and the ones the state offered could only come in for a few hours a day. She was so upset she was nearly in tears.

Morinelli was hardly sympathetic to her plight, finding it extremely annoying that now he'd have to look for another trustworthy caregiver this late in the summer, it was the last week of July and the busy summer season. He asked her to see if she knew of anyone and she said she would keep an ear out. "In the meantime, I'll see what they have to offer in terms of daycare," he grumbled, for that would cost him a lot more than he liked.

Val was heartbroken, for she loved Mrs. DeLuca and was concerned that anyone her dad found to replace her wouldn't be half so kind or generous. She was also sorry for Mr. DeLuca and spent some time praying for him to get well. "I wish you didn't have to go," she wept into Mary's shoulder that morning, after her dad had left for work.

"I know, my _bambina_," Mary said, crying also. "But what can I do? I'll try and see if Mrs. Angelini in my complex can come over for a few days after this week. You'll like her, she's a nice Italian widow too. Her husband died many years ago."

"How old is she?"

"Sixty-five."

"Does she like to go to the park?" Val asked.

"Oh, yes. Don't worry, Val. I'll find someone," Mrs. DeLuca soothed.

"I hope so. Otherwise Papa will put me in one of those daycare centers downtown, and I don't want to go there. Then I won't get to go to the park and play with Bae."

Mrs. DeLuca shuddered. Those centers were full of children from all over the city and she didn't trust them to be monitored correctly and poor Val had always been shy and introverted, which seemed to invite bullies to pick on her. "I'll see what I can do, Val."

They left for Central Park as soon as Mrs. DeLuca charged her phone, but as they were walking there, the hospital called and asked if she could come by, as they needed her to sign more consent forms for a surgery on her husband's leg, which had been smashed in the accident.

Poor Val only had time to put her suitcase back inside the apartment and grab a book and Amanda Willa before hopping on a bus to go with Mrs. DeLuca to Columbia Presbyterian Hospital. They spent nearly all day there, waiting for Mr. DeLuca to come out of surgery and recovery. Val was terribly upset and fearful, and she longed suddenly to be held and comforted by Rumple, who always seemed to make her feel so safe and secure. Right then she felt as if her life was on shifting sand and one great wave would come and wash it away.

She huddled into the brown suede chair in the hospital waiting room next to Mrs. DeLuca, hugging her doll and singing Rumple's lullaby to herself. It helped. But only a little.

**Page~*~*~*~Break**

Bae waited for almost forty minutes for Val to come through the portal. When she didn't emerge after all that waiting, he had to assume she wasn't coming, and crawled back out of the glade to his father. "Papa, she wasn't there!"

Rumple frowned. "Maybe she couldn't come today, Bae."

"Why not? She always comes!"

"I don't know. Perhaps something happened over in New York," mused Rumple, praying that nothing had prevented her from coming, like getting injured or hurt by her father.

"Will she be able to come tomorrow?" Bae wondered.

"Let's hope so, son. Come on, let's go back to the cottage. I need to spin some more wool for market day, and there's half a basket that needs carding. You could help me with that and then maybe we could—"

"No! I don't wanna work, I wanna play with Val!" Bae snapped, upset and angry that his day had been disappointing. He started to stomp back up the trail, a scowl on his small features.

"Hey! Hold it right there, little boy!" Rumple ordered. The child's attitude reminded him unpleasantly of his mother's and he was determined to nip that attitude in the bud right now.

Bae halted, still pouting.

Rumple came up to him, wearing a look of stern disapproval on his face. "Baelfire, I understand you're upset that Val isn't here today, nevertheless that doesn't give you the right to have an attitude with me. I'm sorry your plans were ruined, but I do need your help this morning, and snapping at me and acting like a brat isn't going to get you anything but some time in the corner and an early bedtime."

"Yes, Papa," Bae said, his father's words serving to make him somewhat ashamed of his actions, but he was still sulky about having his day ruined. He'd been looking forward to playing with Val again, and now he was stuck inside carding wool.

Rumple limped up beside him and patted him on the shoulder. "Come now, dearie, it's not the end of the world. We'll work for a few hours and then stop and have lunch and maybe do some fishing, huh?"

His son just nodded, clearly still sulky, and Rumple sighed and hoped he'd be out of his bad mood soon.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Bae carded wool until he was sick of it, both the smell and the texture, and even though he'd only been at it for forty-five minutes it felt like time had slowed to a crawl inside the cottage. Even the soft whirring of Rumple's wheel failed to comfort and soothe him the way it usually did. Rebelliously, he put down his brushes and declared, "I gotta go potty."

Rumple just nodded and kept spinning.

Bae dawdled in the bathroom for a good seven minutes before coming out and whining, "Papa, I'm hungry. Can I stop now?"

"Yes. Put the brushes away and wash up. I'm going to spin for another fifteen minutes, then we can have lunch."

Bae went and placed the brushes on the shelf next to the fireplace and shoved the uncarded wool underneath it. Then he went to wash his hands, which were slightly oily from the lanolin the wool produced. He thought about Val and how fascinated she seemed with the whole process of carding and spinning. If she'd been here, she could have helped, he thought irritably. Then again, if she'd come to play, he wouldn't have been doing work at all this morning.

He got out the loaf of bread and peanut butter and blackberry jam and put it on the table. He was glad Val still brought bread, for with Milah gone there was nobody to make it. Unless his papa learned how from someone or traded for it. But Bae liked the Wonder bread Val brought, it was extra good with peanut butter and jam.

After lunch, Rumple told Bae to get their fishing poles from the shed and the small tin pail which they used to put the fish in once they had caught some. Bae ran about the yard and gathered up worms and shoved them in his pockets.

He felt a little less gloomy then, and looked forward to catching a big fish for supper.

But after an hour and a half, Bae hadn't caught a fish worth keeping, only tiny ones they had to throw back. Luckily Rumple had caught three large trout, and he skinned and filleted them beside the stream, then tossed his catch in the pail to prepare for supper.

"That wasn't a bad catch, right?" Rumple said.

"Mine sucked," Bae groused, kicking some pebbles along the path.

"Well, I'm glad I caught some, so now we can have fried trout tonight with onions and parsley," Rumple said, trying to coax his son into a better mood.

Usually that would have made the little boy happy, but today he was determined to wallow in self-pity and he wasn't about to be happy about anything.

Rumple breaded the fillets and seasoned them and then put them in a pan in the cellar to keep cool, since there was still an hour or two before he cooked supper. He tried to interest his grouchy son in playing a card game or even Candy Land but Bae whined that he could only play that game with Val, or it wasn't the same, and rejected Rumple's overtures.

"Well, if you're determined to sulk, you may as well go take a nap. Maybe some sleep will improve your mood," his father suggested, his patience wearing thin.

"No! I ain't tired!" Bae yelled. "And I ain't a baby! I don't need a nap."

"I disagree. You're cranky and whiny, and acting like a three-year-old, Baelfire. You not only need a nap, you need a time out."

"I do not!"

Rumple's brows drew down sharply. "Mind your mouth. Or else."

"I'm not taking no dumb nap!" Bae cried, ignoring the warning. Then he stamped his foot on the floor, just because he felt like it.

Rumple lost what patience he had left. "Corner, young man. Now." He didn't raise his voice, but he spoke in a firm tone, enough so his son knew he meant what he said.

"No-o-o!" his son wailed.

"Baelfire. One," Rumple began counting. Bae shook his head stubbornly. "Two. You know what happens if I get to three."

Bae did know, but it had been a long time since Rumple had punished him like that, and he was so out-of-sorts that he didn't care what Rumple did right then. He was moody and upset and didn't want to take a nap or get time out. He stuck his lower lip out and glared at his father.

"Three," Rumple announced. When his son still didn't move, deliberately defying him, the spinner picked him up and carried him over to a corner of the kitchen.

Bae squirmed and wailed, "No! No, Papa!"

"I warned you, dearie. Next time behave," Rumple said, setting the boy down facing the wall. "Nine minutes. And this." The spinner gritted his teeth and gave his son a firm swat on his bottom. He only used that correction when Bae had pushed his patience to the limit, as he had today.

Bae yelped and started bawling.

Rumple winced and backed away, knowing quite well he hadn't smacked the child hard enough to elicit such howls, but understanding that the little boy was upset and perhaps acting up because Milah was gone as well as because Val was not there.

Bae continued to cry loudly, his bottom stung slightly, and he was feeling rather ashamed, but not enough to stop bawling. He hated when Rumple punished him, especially when he knew he'd brought it on himself, and he cried for a few more minutes, hoping Rumple would take pity on him and let him out early.

But the spinner just counted off the minutes on the clock and waited, frowning, and wishing like hell he didn't have to do this. But he knew better than to let Baelfire get away with that type of behavior, and despite what Milah claimed, he could be firm and discipline when necessary.

Finally realizing crying wasn't going to lessen his sentence any, Bae stopped and just stood with his head down, sniffling. He cupped a hand and rubbed his bottom, which hardly stung anymore, and now he felt guilty and whimpered, "M' sorry! I'll be good."

"I certainly hope so," his father replied. "You have three more minutes, son."

Bae groaned, but didn't protest any more.

Finally it was over and Rumple called him to come out and Bae ran into his arms. "Papa, I'm sorry!" he cried, sniffling all over Rum's tunic.

"I know. I forgive you, son," Rumple said, patting his back.

Bae snuggled into his arms, murmuring, "Do I still hafta take a nap?"

"Why don't you sit quietly and look at Val's book, okay? I need to chop up a few vegetables and fry them along with the fish," Rumple told him, setting him on his feet a moment later.

"Okay," Bae agreed, his bad mood suddenly vanished, drowned in remorse and tears. He went to get the fairy tale book Val had left behind for Rumple to read to him, and sat in Milah's rocker and looked at all the colorful pictures while his papa prepared supper.

He hoped, where ever she was, Val was having a better day than he was.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

By the time Mr. DeLuca was out of surgery, Val had fallen asleep in the chair beside his wife.

The kindly caregiver shook her awake to get some supper in the cafeteria and then was told by a nurse that he would be sleeping for several hours due to the anesthesia, and Mary decided to take Val home, calling later to see what was going on.

Sleepy and bored, Val was glad to get on the bus and go home. Spending the whole day in the hospital was _not_ fun and she desperately hoped Mr. DeLuca was better tomorrow so she could go and play with Bae.

To make up for such a boring day, Mary made cinnamon butter popcorn with Val that night, and Val ate some of delicious treat, then put the rest in a bag to bring to Bae and Rumple tomorrow.

"I can go tomorrow, right?" she asked Mrs. DeLuca hopefully.

"Yes, love. I didn't know it'd take so long, otherwise I'd have never brought you with me," Mrs. DeLuca said regretfully. "Tomorrow you can go and play while I visit Rich."

"I hope he'll be okay soon," Val said sincerely, she liked him, though she rarely saw him now that he'd begun working the night shift.

"We'll pray for his quick recovery," Mary said, crossing herself. "The Blessed Mother will help heal him right up."

Val prayed not only for that, but that Mrs. DeLuca would be able to come back and watch her.

"Tomorrow, Amanda Willa and I will come, Bae," she whispered before she fell asleep that night.

Morinelli arrived home before nine that night, startling Mary, and said, "You can go. Go and see your husband. Is the kid asleep?"

Mary nodded. "Are you sure, sir?"

"Of course," he waved her away.

Feeling glad, yet at the same time suspicious, Mrs. DeLuca called a cab to take her back to Columbia. What was he doing home so early, she wondered.

Back at the apartment, Paul quickly changed from his work clothes to something a bit more casual. He checked once on Valentina, she was asleep, which was all to the good. She would never know that he had gone out then. It was a rather sudden invitation from some of the guys in his office, and Paul decided to take advantage of it, and go to a new sports bar downtown and have a late supper and a drink or two.

He carefully locked the door and took a cab downtown, leaving Val sleeping all alone in the penthouse.

_Fairy Tale Land:_

Rumple read the story of _The Brave Little Tailor_ that night to Bae before tucking him into bed. He gently kissed his boy's forehead and whispered goodnight to him.

Bae smiled sleepily at him and grasped his hand in his own small one. "Night, Papa. I'm sorry I was bad today."

"Well, we all have days like that, son. Remember, tomorrow's a new day with no mistakes it it. I love you, Bae. Now close your eyes, dearie, and go to sleep."

"Love you too," Bae yawned, and drifted off still holding the spinner's hand, glad that this day was over, because tomorrow would be better.

**A/N: Hope you liked this one. Was Rum's discipline fair? And what will happen when Morinelli comes home? Find out next chapter!**


	14. In the Dark of the Night

**14**

**In the Dark of the Night**

Morinelli came back home around one o'clock in the morning, his ears still ringing from the loud music from the live band and the shouting of the patrons watching basketball on the big screen TV's surrounding the bar. His head also ached from doing too many shots of tequila and something new he'd tried at the urging of several of his co-workers, who insisted he needed to loosen up more, called a Paint Bomb. Whatever in hell was in it had almost knocked him on his ass, though he'd never admit it. He was glad he'd had the foresight to call a cab to take him back and forth and not driven his car.

It took him a few minutes to put his key in the lock and turn it. When the door opened, he staggered inside, shot home the deadbolt and managed to make it into his bedroom before passing out on the bed, still wearing his jeans, sneakers, and the New York Mets shirt he'd thrown on.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Val dreamed she was running through a dark and scary wood, and Something big and snarling with long dagger-like teeth was chasing her. She ran and ran, but the Thing kept coming, panting at her heels, saliva dripping from its huge maw, its eyes red and glowing. Val screamed and fled, running as fast as she could, but the Beast nearly grabbed her foot.

She just managed to get away and climbed a twisted old oak tree, clinging in terrified hysteria to its gnarled branches while the Beast lunged and howled below her, trying to climb the tree and get at her.

She started screaming and crying then. "Help! Somebody help me! Rumple! Bae! Mrs. DeLuca! Papa! Anyone! Help!"

But the Beast loomed ever larger, jumping on its strong legs up the tree trunk, eyes crazed, howling in glee, as it came for her, ready to devour her.

Then there came an odd crackling hiss and Val woke up.

She was so scared that she was frozen for a few moments, sweat trickling down her back.

Then she heard something . . . a strange crackling noise . . . and further away, outside, the wail of sirens approaching.

Now Val had lived all her life in Manhattan, so sirens were a commonplace occurance. She'd heard them wailing since she was a baby, and had learned to sleep through them quickly. But she was so terrified by the dream she'd had—no, the nightmare—that the sirens made her jump out of bed and run out of the room.

She paused in the dark hallway, her heart beating like an express train in her chest. She was trembling and the sirens were so loud they made her head hurt. Scared to death, she did something she normally never would have done . . . she ran into her father's bedroom.

Once inside, she saw a single nightlight burning, and he was sprawled upon the bed, snoring. It would have been funny, seeing him snoring like a pig with all his clothes on like that, but Val was too frightened to appreciate the irony.

Gulping hard, she ran up to him and put a small hand on his arm. "Papa? Papa, please wake up! I . . . had a . . . bad dream . . . wake up!"

Her voice was soft and low, it was nearly drowned out by the sirens.

Indeed, it was that which woke Morinelli, not Val.

He woke from his drunken stupor like a coiled viper, his head throbbing and vicious as a wild boar defending its territory. "Huh? What the hell are you waking me up for, you little bitch!" he growled, his eyes bloodshot and glittering rather like the Beast's in her dream.

Val shrank away, whimpering, "Sorry, Papa! I'm sorry!"

"I'll make you sorry all right!" he snarled, then his hand lashed out, catching the little girl across the face and knocking her right across the room.

Val started to cry, but softly, for her cheek ached abominably, and she had skinned her knees and hands when she landed on the carpet.

"Get out!" Morinelli roared.

Petrified, Val picked herself up and ran, going into her room and locking the door. She went and grabbed Amanda Willa from the bed and hugged her, curling up on the comforter and sobbing. She tasted blood on her tongue and her jaw ached. She must have bitten her lip or something. _I'msorryIdidn'tmeantowakeyou,please don'thurt me!Pleasedon'thurtme!_ Her mind babbled the same plea over and over as she cradled her doll close, fearing her father would come after her and beat her for waking him up.

She knew she never should have done that, but she had been so scared! She was still scared, only now the nameless Beast was no longer so—its name was Paul Morinelli. Shaking violently, she crawled from her bed and grabbed her blue suitcase, which Mrs. DeLuca had helped her pack last night with the popcorn, three jars of Jif, three loaves of Wonder bread, and two boxes each of Twinkies and Funny Bones. She'd also included two boxes of band-aids and a bottle of some non-stinging Bactine wash, just in case Val happened to get splinters in her hands. Val had also packed an extra set of clothes and sandals, so she could change if she happened to get her clothes dirty like she did with the dye last time she was there.

Now she huddled on the floor of the closet, her knees drawn up, shaking violently, her face pressed against Amanda Willa's body to stifle her choked sobs. The sweet smell of lavender surrounded her, nearly drowning out the other odd smell in the air . . . like that of something burning.

Little did Val know that an electrical short had occurred in the wiring of the building, sparking a sudden fire which had spread unknown to half the people inside it, as most of them were sleeping. One, an old man on the seventh floor, had been awake and unable to sleep when his smoke alarm started to go off. He'd called 9-1-1 and the police and fire department were on their way.

Those had been the sirens Val had heard.

But the fire had a good head start and it was now raging through the building, the flames crackling hungrily and eating their way through the steel and concrete at a furious pace.

There came a pounding on the apartment door and a man shouted, "Yo, Morinelli! You there! Get out if you are, the building's on fire!"

Val nearly passed out when she heard that. A fire! She knew that when there was a fire you had to stop, drop, and roll. Crawl on the floor too. Her breath hitching in her chest, she forced herself to get up and open the door.

Then she ran down the hall again, and standing at the open door of the bedroom, yelled, "Papa! Fire! There's a fire! Wake up!"

But Morinelli was deep in an alcoholic haze and didn't hear his daughter screaming.

The crackling was growing louder as was the thickened air.

Val started sobbing. Smoke stung her eyes. She had to get out!

She ran towards the door of the apartment, but she was too small to reach the deadbolt, and when she touched the door it was hot!

She screamed, drawing her hand back, it was red from the heat of the fire outside.

Not knowing what else to do, she ran back inside her room, and grabbed her suitcase, figuring she might be able to climb out a window. But it was so high and she was scared of falling. Or being burnt up. Suddenly, she recalled Rumple making her promise to come to him if something should happen.

_Help me, Rumple! Help me, please! I need you! Help me!_

She felt something surge deep within her, and suddenly the doll within her arms began to glow softly.

"Amanda Willa, help me go to Rumple! Please! Before I burn up!" she cried, squeezing her eyes shut, one hand around the doll and the other around her suitcase.

"_I'll help you, Val,"_ she heard the doll's voice in her head. "_I'm your protector. Hold tight and don't let go. And wish yourself to Rumple, Val. Wish hard!"_

Val wished with all of her heart and soul to be at Rumple's cottage. And the latent magic that lived within the doll and dwelled as well inside the neophyte realms walker flared to life.

A glowing portal formed right on the spot where Val was standing and whisked her away to the one place and the one person who had pledged to keep her safe and sound forever.

Just as the smoke crept into the apartment and a steel girder collapsed, causing a section of the roof to fall right where she had been moments before . . . as well as on top of her sleeping father.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

_Fairy Tale Land_

_Rumplestiltskin's cottage:_

Bae woke up and heard someone crying. At first he thought he was dreaming, but when he sat up and looked around, the sun was peeking into his window and Rumple was still snoozing in his bed right there in the loft. The crying continued, and Bae knew it was no dream.

Scrambling out of bed, he peered between the railings of the loft, but it was dark down there and he couldn't see much. Puzzled, he climbed down the ladder and into the living room, which had streaks of sunlight coming from the door and the windows, illuminating the floor.

It was then he saw a familiar blue suitcase and curled up next to it was his best friend, crying her eyes out and hugging her doll, which seemed to sparkle oddly in the dawn light.

"Val!" he cried. He ran over to her. "Val! How'd you get here? The door's locked and . . . umm . . . Val, why are you crying?"

Val was still shaking, her eyes squinched shut, and for a moment she didn't even recognize her friend's voice.

Bae hugged her then, whispering, "Hey, it's okay. Val, please don't cry. Please." His friend's silence and trembling frightened him, but he didn't want to leave her like this in order to run up and get Rumple. So he did the only other thing he could think of—he hugged her the same way Rumple did to him when he was scared.

Finally, Val opened her eyes, and looked right into Bae's brown ones. "B-Bae! I'm really here?"

"Uh huh. Where else would you be?" he asked. Then he gasped in horror. "Val! Your _face_! You're all . . . beaten up!" There was a huge bruise across her cheek and her lip was all swollen and crusted with blood.

"P-Papa did that," she sniffled. "I . . . I tried to wake him up . . . I had a dream . . . about a Beast coming to eat me . . . an' I got so scared I just ran to him . . . and he . . .. he screamed at me and hit me . . ."

Bae stared at the awful mark and whispered, "Oh, gods! Mama smacked me with her spoon and it really hurt, but even she never did anything like _that._"

Val started crying again. " . . . then I ran and hid in the closet . . . and somebody came and banged on the door of my apartment . . . and there was a fire, Bae . . . I tried to wake him up . . . and I couldn't get out . . . I woulda burnt up but Amanda Willa talked to me and told me to wish to come here to Rumple . . . so I did . . . and here I am."

"Shh, Val! I'm gonna wake up Papa. He can help you," Bae said, gently removing his arms from about her and starting up towards the loft.

"B-Bae, no! What if he gets mad?" Val quivered, her green eyes huge in her bruised face.

"He won't. He's not like yours, Val," Bae reassured her. "I've woken him up lots of times before. He don't care."

Valentina took a deep breath, trying to stop crying. Of course Bae was right. This was Rumple, and he didn't smack about little kids. Then she recalled how she had woken him up lots of times when she was sick with chicken pox and he'd never minded at all. It would be okay now, she reminded herself. But she couldn't stop shivering. She felt all hot and cold and her head ached, as well as her hand where she'd touched the door.

Then familiar arms were holding her and a familiar voice was crooning, "Val, dearie, you're all right now. He can't hurt you, not ever again. I'll keep you safe. You're going to stay here with me, and he'll never find you."

Val just nodded her head wearily and leaned against Rumple's chest. She was so tired . . . exhausted . . . and all she wanted was to sleep . . . sleep, there in Rumple's arms, safe and sound at long last.

Rumple learned what he could from Bae, and a bit more he guessed from the condition the little girl was in, the bruise on her face and the burn on her hand were her worst injuries, at least physically. He quickly checked her over, feeling for any other injuries, but there were none.

He had Bae get him a wet cold towel to put on the nasty bruise, furiously wishing Morinelli dead and buried as he did so. (Little did he know that wish had already come true). He gently cleaned her lip also, as well as her little hand, which was red and raw looking. He used a salve he had made of lanolin and a certain plant juice that was good for burns, slathered it on, and then wrapped it gently in a clean bandage.

"Papa, will Val be okay?" asked Bae worriedly.

"Yes, I think so. She's just in shock now," Rumple said. "Get me some blankets, please, and pillows. I need to keep her warm."

Bae ran up and got everything he needed and gave them to Rumple, who made her a makeshift bed on the hearth with pillows and blankets, bundling her up like a caterpillar in a cocoon.

Then Rumple started a fire in the fireplace, and picked up his new child and sat with her in his rocking chair, humming his standard lullaby. "Sleep now, my pretty girl," he murmured. "Because you're mine now. Anyone who's bastard enough to do that to their own kin doesn't deserve to have children. You'll go back to him over my dead body. Now you're _my_ little girl and I'll protect you till my last breath."

In her arms, wrapped up in the blankets with her, Amanda Willa winked and smiled. Her charge was safe at last and now she could rest too.

**A/N: Who's glad that Morenelli's gone, gone, gone? Besides me, that is? I really couldn't stand the creep and I wrote him, LOL! And who liked Amanda Willa's sudden come to life appearance? Now my niece, who's scared of dolls would have told me it's creepy, but I think it's rather cool. How about you? **

**Next: some good times are ahead for our two young'uns and Rumple . . . until something not so good happens . . .**


	15. Wounds of the Spirit

**15**

**Wounds of the Spirit**

Val dreamed of fire and a Beast that hunted her through the dark forest. She ran and ran until she was breathless and her lungs ached and her hands throbbed and she woke up screaming and gasping for breath. "No! No! I don't wanna burn!"

"Val, dearie, it's all right!" said Rumple, going and picking her up from the nest of blankets in front of the hearth where he'd placed her so he could make breakfast and help Bae wash the dishes.

The little girl was shivering and crying, clinging to the spinner for dear life, her small arms flung round his neck and her face buried in his shoulder.

"Shh, now, my pretty girl," Rumple murmured, cuddling her close. "There's no more fire, you're safe here with me, remember? No one's going to hurt you, not ever again, little one. Hush!"

Bae came in from the backyard, where he'd been picking some weeds in the garden, and saw Val crying. Alarmed, he cried, "Papa! What's wrong?"

Rumple turned to him, saying, "Val just was having a bad dream, Bae. About the fire and all. It scared her badly, son. That's why she's like this." He continued to hold and rock the child, stroking her dark hair gently.

The child's heartrending sobs tore at him, as they did his son, telling him plainer than any confession of the horrors she had endured at the hands of her brutal and cruel father. But he didn't know quite what to do to assuage her fear except to hold her and hum a lullaby to her.

Bae tapped his arm, his brown eyes wide and troubled, holding out a familiar object. "D'you think it'll help if she holds Amanda Willa, Papa?"

"It might, Bae, but right now she's too upset. But thank you, son, for trying to make her feel better." He took the doll and tucked her beside the distraught little girl.

"Maybe I can make her a card," Bae said, desperate to do something to make his friend happy again.

"That's a good idea, dearie," said his father, his long fingers carding her hair rhythmically.

Bae ran over to his toy box and pulled out his crayons and got a piece of paper from the cupboard and began to draw some things he knew Val liked—such as sunflowers, kittens, and bunnies.

As he colored in the card, wishing he knew how to write, Val nestled against Rumple's chest, her sobs gradually dying to sniffles, the terror slowly leaving her, as she realized what he'd been telling her was true. There was no fire. No growling savage Beast. Not anymore. And his hand through her silky dark hair was so soothing, she almost fell asleep again.

Rumple dug a handkerchief out of his pocket and gently wiped the little girl's face and said quietly, "Blow, dearie. You're all stuffed up."

Val obeyed, accustomed to following orders from a male authority figure.

"There, is that better, sweetheart?" he crooned, wishing he could banish the fear that lived in those soulful green eyes.

"Yes," Val replied.

"Good. Now, I think you ought to have a bath and get changed into some new clothes. Then I'll put some more salve on your hand and something on your face too. Did your papa do that, love?"

"He—he was mad cause I woke him up," Val said, trembling. "So he . . . he smacked me and knocked me down."

Rumple snarled something under his breath at that statement, then said, "Well, he won't be doing that again, dearie. You're going to stay here with me and not go back there ever again."

Val's eyes widened. "I . . . I don't think I can go back, Rumple. I think . . . it's all burnt down."

He nodded. "Then that takes care of that then. You're going to live here with me and Bae now, Valentina. We'll tell everyone you're an orphan, which is true, most likely, and I took you in. You'll be my little girl now. How's that sound?"

"I'd like that, Rumple! Ever so much!" she said, and she kissed his cheek. "Oh! My suitcase!" she cried, remembering she'd brought it.

"We can look at it after you've washed up a bit," Rumple told her, standing up with the child in his arms. His hand groped for his cane, and then he started walking towards the bathroom, where the bathtub waited to be filled with warmed water and soap.

As he set Val down, Bae came into the room, saying, "Val, look what I made you. A card for you to feel better. I'd have wrote your name on it except I can't yet."

Val looked at her friend and smiled quietly. "Thanks, Bae. I feel lots better now," she said, holding the card. She did feel a little better knowing that she'd never have to go back to Manhattan again or her father. "You did a good job," she said, studying the card. "I like the kitty."

"It's supposed to be Sassy," Bae said. He looked at Rumple. "Papa, can we get a cat someday?"

"We'll see, Bae," Rumple replied, thinking that right then he had all he could handle with Val. He began to heat up some water on the spider and poured a bucket full of cold water from the well into the tub, which was a big round one made of sturdy oak and smoothed inside. He'd lined it with an old sheet, just in case there were splinters and shaved slivers of soap with his penknife into the water.

It took about ten minutes to mix the hot and cold water with the soap, creating a warm sudsy water. Rumple tested it with a finger, making sure it wasn't too hot or too cold. "There, dearie. Now you get in here and we'll wash off the smell of smoke from you," he encouraged.

Val tugged off her nightgown, which did smell unpleasantly of smoke, and climbed into the tub, sinking into the warm water with a sigh.

Though she was quiet capable of washing herself, and had done so many times before, she felt a strange lassitude flow through her, and she was content to just sit there and let Rumple gently scrub her with a sea sponge and wash her hair.

While his papa was in the bathroom helping Val, Bae decided to make a snack, and got out the peanut butter and an apple. He pushed the apple upon the apple slicer, an odd machine Rumple had made that would slice apples easily, and turned the crank handle. Soon the apple was neatly sliced and Bae took it and spread peanut butter on all the slices with a small wooden spreader and put them on a plate. He let himself eat two of them, then decided to wait and share the rest with his friend and Rumple.

Rumple finished washing Val's long hair, careful to rinse all the soap out of it before wrapping it in a soft towel. He helped the child from the tub, saying, "Stay here, Val. I'm going to get you something to wear."

"I've got clothes in my suitcase," she told him, recalling the outfit she'd packed.

Rumple went and opened the suitcase, finding the skirt and ruffled blouse she'd packed with the Disney princesses on it and also some underwear. Gathering the clothes, he returned with them to the bathroom.

"Can you dress yourself, or shall I help?" he queried.

"I can do it," she said shyly, and took the clothes from him.

Rumple left her then and went to fetch a brush and comb.

When Val emerged from the bathroom, dressed in her single change of clothes, Rumple said, "Let me comb that hair of yours, dearie, before it tangles."

So Val sat on a chair while Rumple gently combed her hair out, working through the thick strands without pulling or tugging, making them soft and silky. He brushed her hair until it was almost dry and crackled when he ran the brush through it.

"There! We'll leave it loose so it can dry, okay?"

"Papa, I made us some peanut butter and apples for a snack," Bae announced.

"That's very thoughtful of you, Bae. But I'm not quite hungry yet, so you and Val eat it while I clean up in there," Rumple told him. He went to gather the wet towel and empty out the tub while the children ate.

Val chewed the apple with peanut butter gingerly, for her lip still hurt. Bae had poured them both cups of milk, bringing the bottle up from the root cellar.

Bae eyed her as he ate, saying diffidently, "Does your face hurt, Val?"

"A little," she admitted. "But mostly my hand does." She had to eat with her left hand, since her right palm was burned. She had it in her lap.

"Did you burn it trying to get away from the fire?" her friend wanted to know.

"Uh . . . I went to open the door, but it was locked and when I touched it, it was hot," she said. She explained how she had tried to wake up her papa, but he'd just kept sleeping and then she'd run into her room and hugged Amanda Willa and the doll had told her to wish herself here and she had done so.

Rumple, upon hearing this last, frowned and picked up the doll lying on the table. But though he had made it, he could see nothing remarkable about it. It was a simple cloth doll. He then looked at Val and decided that however she had gotten here, it must have been her own efforts that brought her, some kind of latent magic.

He thought of the glowing door that only she had been able to use, and figured her magic had something to do with portals. He had heard of such folk—realms walkers they were called, able to travel from one realm to another by opening magical gates. He had never heard of one so young, though, and figured her desperate situation had probably had something to do with her creating a gate from New York to the Enchanted Forest. Sometimes such emotional upheaval called forth a latent power that way.

"That was a lucky thing that happened, dearie," he said, and then got out his salve and bandages again. "Let me see your hand, Val. It needs more of this on it."

Val obediently gave him her burned appendage, sitting still as a statue while he gently put more salve on it and wrapped it up again.

He also put some arnica bruise balm from another container on her cheek, knowing it would heal faster that way. "How's that feel?"

"Good," she answered, amazed that he'd take the time to fix her this way. It was quite a revelation, to have an adult male take care of her like this. It gave her a strange feeling deep inside that as yet she had no name for.

Bae asked her if she wanted to play Candy Land, and so they did that until Rumple made lunch and after she'd eaten, Val felt oddly sleepy, and asked to take a nap.

Bae stared at her. "You wanna take a nap now?"

She yawned. "M'sorry. I'm just . . . sleepy."

"Go on up and lie down in my bed," Rumple told her.

Bae followed Val up the ladder, not really tired, but deciding to play with his toy soldiers up there.

Val crawled into Rumple's bed, holding her doll, and soon was fast asleep.

Bae saw and was suddenly sleepy also and went and lay down in his bed.

When Rumple came up a few minutes later to check on them, he found both asleep and tucked them in and quietly went back down to spin more thread and later to prepare some salad and slice up some roast beef for sandwiches for supper.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Later, Val recalled that Mrs. DeLuca probably thought she'd died in the fire, and decided maybe she could write her a letter and use the door leading to Central Park to leave it on the bench where she always sat. Maybe she'd find it or someone could give it to her.

"I don't want her to think I died," she told Rumple earnestly.

"No, that wouldn't be right, dearie," the spinner said. And to her small note he added his own missive.

Then he sealed them in an envelope and said Val could take it back and put it where she could find it tomorrow.

He read both children the rest of the Princess and the Frog story and decided tomorrow to do laundry. He would also need something for Val to wear, and decided to start on a small dress tomorrow, patterned after the one he'd made her doll.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

But that night was a hard one, as poor Val woke screaming again with nightmares, this time of her father attacking her and throwing her into a fire. Rumple woke to the girl's petrified screams and it took ten minutes for him to calm her down , she whimpered and cringed every time he approached her, sobbing that she was sorry and wouldn't wake him up again.

Finally, Rumple sat on the end of the bed and just talked to her, trying to reassure her that it didn't matter if she woke him up, he'd never punish her for it. He counted it lucky that Bae was sleeping soundly, so he didn't have two frightened children to deal with.

"Valentina, sweetheart, I'm not like your papa. I'll never hurt you, especially not for just waking me up because you had a nightmare. Matter of fact, I _want_ you to wake me up, so you're not sitting there scared in the dark."

"You w-won't get mad and . . . smack me?" she whimpered.

"Never! Your papa was a mean nasty man and I'll never treat you the way he did, dearie. I promise you that," he vowed. "Now come here, please, my pretty girl. You're shaking like a leaf, baby." He cautiously held out his arms and Val crawled slowly across the bed and into his lap.

Rumple enfolded her in his arms, smoothing her hair and rubbing her back. The little girl shook and quivered, and the spinner hugged her and wished he knew if he was doing the right thing for the poor damaged child. Clearly, her father had damaged her spirit, and Rumple only prayed that with time she'd heal.

It took several long minutes for the child to relax and finally fall asleep again. Afraid of disturbing her, Rumple lay down with her in his arms, and soon he had fallen asleep too, hoping tomorrow would be a better day.


	16. Adjustments

**16**

**Adjustments**

Val woke to the smell of bacon and eggs frying the next morning. Jumping out of bed, she climbed down the ladder and found Rumple cooking breakfast. "Mmm! That smells so good," she said.

"It'll be ready soon, dearie," he said, smiling at her. "So hurry and wash up."

Val hunted in her suitcase for the toothbrush and Crest she'd packed, thinking it lucky she'd done so. Then she went and waited by the door of the bathroom for Bae to come out. "Your hair's sticking up," she said, chuckling.

"Yeah, well yours looks like a jackdaw nested in it," he returned. He reached out a hand to brush a strand from her eye and touched her bruised cheek by accident.

She flinched and whimpered.

Instantly contrite, Bae said, "I'm sorry, Val! I didn't mean to. I'm sorry!"

"What happened?" Rumple queried from where he was turning the bacon.

"It's okay," Val said softly. "Bae just . . . touched my face and it hurt me a little. But I'm okay now."

"I'll put some more arnica on after breakfast," the spinner said, scrambling the eggs and putting them into another pan.

Bae watched as Val gently washed her face and then put some Crest on her toothbrush. "What's that?"

"It's toothpaste. Don't you brush your teeth?"

"Yeah, but not with that stuff. What's it like?"

"Umm . . . tastes like fruit," she answered. "Let me brush, then you can try it."

In about two minutes, the children were giggling hysterically as they played with the toothpaste and Val's Beauty and the Beast toothbrush.

"Rrowr! I'm a werewolf!" Bae said, baring his teeth, which were covered with toothpaste and foaming.

"And I'm a zombie queen! Urrghh!" Val cried, moaning like she'd heard the zombies do on TV. Foaming toothpaste dripped onto her borrowed nightshirt.

Rumple carried the dishes of scrambled eggs and bacon to the table. "Children! Breakfast!"

"Aww!" Val groaned. "Okay, let's rinse." She stuck her face into the wash basin and spit out all the toothpaste.

Bae followed suit, asking a bit nervously, "Is it okay if I swallowed some?"

"Sure! I do sometimes." Val dried her face off with a towel then went to sit down at the table.

Rumple had made eggs, bacon, and toast for everyone, and coffee for himself, giving the two children milk.

Val enjoyed her food immensely, thinking that everything just tasted better here. Maybe it was because her father was no longer there to ruin everything. She thought about the fire again and shivered. _He must be dead. He never woke up. I ought to be sad about it. I ought to be crying my eyes out. But I'm not. I just feel . . . glad I'm not there anymore._ She bit her lip, confused. Did that mean she was a bad person, for not feeling sad that her dad was gone? Her dad had been so nasty, it was hard to think of anything good about him . . . or anything she missed about him not being there.

Then she thought about Mrs. DeLuca, and said softly, "Rumple, we can go put the letter there today, right?"

"Yes. After you two get dressed and I comb your hair, we can go to the glade and I'll wait while you do that," he said.

It took about fifteen minutes for Rumple to clean up the dishes and get the kids ready, both of them were rather fidgety and wriggled while he brushed their hair out. "Bae, stand still!" he ordered exasperatedly. "Otherwise I can't get this knot out."

"Oww! Papa, you're pulling," his son complained.

"No, you are. Now be still," Rumple ordered, finally managing to remove the knot. "There! Val, come here and let me braid your hair."

Val too was a little fidgety, but she stood still when Rumple combed and braided, for fear of getting a swat otherwise. Even though a part of her knew that Rumple was not her dad, she was still wary and afraid of doing anything to make him mad. She knew quite well what an angry man did to bad little girls.

Rumple made sure he smoothed on some more arnica salve and then handed Val the letter and together they all walked to the glade.

Val went through the glowing door again and found the park bench where Mrs. DeLuca usually sat. It was empty and Val made sure to put the letter on it with a sturdy rock to weight it down and make sure it didn't move or blow away. She had written Mrs. DeLuca's address on it and hoped that if she didn't come to the park, someone else would see it and give it to her. It was all she could do, as she didn't want to go back to the apartment building again and risk anyone seeing her.

She hurried back through the door, knowing this was the last time she would ever go through it again.

Once she was back on the other side, she crawled through the thicket and met Rumple. "I left it there. I hope she gets it," she told him.

"Well, dearie, that's all you can do," he said. "Now let's go home."

_Home,_ Val thought, and felt odd suddenly calling the little cottage that, but the fact was that it was her home now . . . a home without her awful father . . . a home that for once she wasn't afraid to set foot in, with two people that she cared about and that actually cared about her . . . or so she hoped.

**Page~*~*~*~*~*~Break**

When they got back to the cottage, Rumple suggested they go and play outside while he went into his shed and began to piece together a dress for Val to wear. "You're going to need more than one set of clothes, dearie, so I'd best get sewing."

Val looked astonished. "You mean . . . you're going to make me a dress?"

"Yes. You're too little to wear Milah's things, and I have no daughters to give you clothes, so I'll have to make some for you," Rumple said calmly. "It shouldn't take me long, I can sew pretty quickly."

"That's so neat! I've never had anyone actually _make_ me something to wear before," Val said. "My father . . . he just had Mrs. DeLuca buy me things at the store."

"Papa makes clothes all the time for me," Bae said proudly.

"Hmm, you're going to need a new shirt and pants, Bae, you've grown some," Rumple observed. "So I'll be sewing three things then."

Rumple took some measurements with his tape for the two children, and while the two played chase and knights and princesses in the yard, went into his shed and began to draw patterns on three pieces of fabric. He left the shed door open so there would be a breeze and also so he could hear and see the children.

He picked out some lightweight blue cloth for Bae's shirt and some sturdier beige material for his pants. For Val he chose a lightweight summer cotton in a pretty ivory color with tiny rosebuds in it, he had bought the fabric intending to surprise Milah with a new dress awhile ago, and had never gotten around to using it. He had just sketched in the pattern with chalk and begun to cut it out when he heard Bae greet Rachel.

Setting his scissors down atop the table, Rumple limped out to see his neighbor. "Hello, Rachel. What brings you out this way?"

"Hiya, Rumple!" she said, smiling. She held a covered dish in her hands. "I brung ye a chicken pie, made too much of it and figgered ye could have some. I see the lassie's back wi' ye too."

"The lassie's here to stay, Rachel. Her papa was killed in a fire recently and he asked me to take care of her should anything happen to him," Rumple told her glibly. "So now she's my new little girl." He led the widow into the cottage and had her put the pie on the table. "That's right nice of you, Rachel. Now I won't have to cook tonight. That means I can work an extra hour or so on the new clothes I'm making Bae and Val."

The widow eyed him thoughtfully. "I know ye're handy wi' a needle an' thread, Rumple, but I do have some things I could gi' ye for the lass. I saved some dresses an'bloomers from ma Elsie, don't ask me why, but I did. They might be summat big, but ye can take 'em in. That way ye don't have t'rush making sommat new right off."

"Thank you, Rachel. That's very kind," Rumple said. "Altering clothing is much easier than making a whole new set."

"I'll bring it over this afternoon. Been sittin' in a trunk in ma spare room all these years, might as well gi' it t' the lass, who can use it, since I don't have any grandbabies yet," Rachel laughed. "Mayhap I e'en got sommat from Stephen for yer laddie too. I'll have to see."

"That would be wonderful," Rumple said, happy that he wouldn't have to spend so much time sewing as he'd thought, though he would still make the clothes as he'd planned. No sense letting good fabric go to waste. "Why don't you sit down and have a cup of tea?" he suggested.

"Be glad to, spinner," Rachel grinned.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

While Rachel visited with Rumple, who was glad of another adult to talk with, Bae and Val relaxed in the summer sunshine, sitting in the grass and blowing dandelion puffs. They watched the breeze swirl around, making the fuzzy white puffs dance upon the wind.

"It's such a lovely day," Val said happily.

"Uh huh. And it's even better now that you don't have to go back to New York," Bae stated.

"Are you glad I've come to stay here, Bae?"

"Sure am! Now I can have a friend over all the time. Are you glad, Val?"

She nodded. "Yes. Even though I know I ought to be sad now that my papa's gone to heaven, I . . . I'm not . . . not really. He was just so . . . mean and hateful, Bae, that I . . . can't really feel bad that he's gone."

"I don't blame you," her friend said feelingly. "Anybody that can hurt you like that doesn't deserve to be missed, Val. He . . . he sounded like an awful father. Worse than my mama was."

"He was. And I . . . never did nothin' to him, Bae. Nothin' except get born. But I guess . . . for him that was enough."

Bae patted her knee, when it seemed like she was about to start crying, her eyes were suspiciously bright. "He was an idiot! Now let's not talk about him anymore. Now my papa's your father, Val."

"Then . . . you don't mind?" she asked curiously.

"Mind? Why? You're my best friend, and we share most everything. So I can share my papa with you. You don't have to be afraid of him, Val. He doesn't believe in hitting kids like yours did."

"Has he ever?"

"Not like that!" Bae shook his head. "Oh, once in a while he's given me a swat on the bottom, but nothing like what yours did to you. He's only ever spanked me three times."

Val frowned. "Ever?"

Bae nodded. "And all the times it was 'cause I was really bad."

"How come?"

"Uh . . . well . . . when I was three I was like a terrible brat and I wouldn't take a bath and threw myself on the floor and just started screaming and then when he came to pick me up I . . . grabbed a wooden toy horse and clocked him one with it . . . threw it right at his head."

Val gasped in horror.

"Yeah, so I got spanked good for it. The other time was for hiding behind the woodpile and not coming out when he called me. I was four then and I was mad at him for not bringing me a toy or something from the market so I hid from him and wouldn't come out. And when he finally found where I was and asked me why, I said I didn't care if he called me and I scared him, 'cause I was mad at him. So he spanked me then too. And . . . um . . . last time was just last week, 'cause I wouldn't listen to him after he counted to three and go stand in the corner. But it wasn't like what the Tanner boys get from their papa."

"What do you mean?"

"Their papa uses a belt an' whips them. Mine would never do that. He doesn't use things when he spanks me, just his hand. And it stings, but only for a little bit, and he always tells me he's sorry he had to do it after an' hugs me too. I always feel really sad too, and not just cause my bottom stings either. It's 'cause I know he doesn't like doing it to me."

"How do you know that?"

"Simple. He'd never say he was sorry if he liked it. Did your papa ever say sorry after he hit you?"

"No. Never. He always said it was my fault he did it . . . even when I didn't do anything wrong. One time he . . . smacked me just 'cause he didn't like how I looked at him. I was always afraid, Bae. Always."

Bae hugged her. "Now you don't have to be, Val. Not ever again. I'll protect you and so will Papa."

She hugged him back. "I'll try not to be. Scared, I mean. I'm not a crybaby."

"Never said you were, Val. If I'd had a mean nasty papa like yours, I'd cry too."

"You had a mean nasty mama," she reminded him.

"Yeah, but she never hit me like your papa did. And Papa was usually there to make sure she didn't hit me at all. She usually did it when he was gone, or couldn't see. He used to quarrel with her lots over me, and that's another reason why I'm glad she's gone. No more fighting."

"I'm really glad for that. I don't think she'd have let me stay if she were still here."

"Probably not. Then she'd have fought with Papa again," Bae said. "So it's good she's gone away now."

Val couldn't help but agree. Without Milah, the cottage was a much more pleasant place. If only she could stop having nightmares. She didn't know why she kept having them now that she was safe. And she hated it.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

That afternoon, Rachel brought Rumple the extra clothes for Val and Bae also. He set to work once she had gone and managed to alter one dress and a shirt for Bae before going in to heat up the delicious pie for supper.

Everyone enjoyed it and Val put on her own nightgown that night, as Rumple had washed it, and fell asleep after drinking some hot cocoa and Rumple reading them another story out of the fairy tale book, this one was about the goose that laid the golden egg.

When Val fell asleep that night after he'd tucked her in and sang to her, Rumple thought he might get a decent night's sleep that night. But once again, the little girl dreamed and woke screaming in terror. Like the previous night, at first she wouldn't permit Rumple near her, shivering and huddling in a ball at the head of the bed.

The terror in the child's eyes was heartbreaking, and though the spinner realized it wasn't directed at him, he nevertheless felt hurt when he tried to hold her and she shrank from him.

_Like I'm a monster, _he thought, then he shook his head. No, her father had been the monster, and he'd left scars upon her heart that Rumple realized would take long and long to heal. But he would be patient. "Don't be scared, love. He's gone forever. There's only me here now. And I'll never hurt you, Val."

She gulped sharply, sniffling. "Not even . . . if I'm bad?"

Rumple shook his head. "Never, dearie. I promise."

She looked up into his eyes and saw that he meant every word. Slowly, she uncurled from her ball and sat with her knees drawn up to her chest. "You won't spank me?"

"No. I only ever punished Bae that way three times, and I hated it. I won't lift a hand to you, Val. By my name and all the gods, I swear it," he pledged. "I know it's hard to trust me, dearie, but please know I mean what I say."

"I believe you," she whispered. But she didn't move towards him.

So he did, asking, "Would you like me to hold you, Val?"

Slowly, she nodded.

He gently pulled her into his arms and when she stiffened, an instinctive reaction, he rubbed slow circles on her back and hummed his lullaby until she relaxed in his embrace.

She had been afraid at first, but now she wasn't, his promise and the way his hands stroked her back and her hair calming her initial fear. Slowly she relaxed and allowed herself to snuggle into him, breathing in the scent of sandalwood and fresh linen, smells that calmed and soothed her weary spirit. She sank into sleep, her cheek nestled against his own, her sweet breath tickling his ear.

"My sweet brave girl," he whispered. "Your bastard father's lucky he's dead. Otherwise I'd have to kill him for what he's done to you, and it wouldn't be an easy death either. But you're safe now, Valentina. Safe and sound, my precious child. Now and always."

When he was sure she was sleeping soundly once more, he laid her back down and put her doll beside her. Then he crawled beneath the covers himself next to her and slept at last, one arm flung protectively across her.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

_The next morning_

_Central Park, Manhattan:_

A heartbroken Mary DeLuca walked over to the park bench where she had spent so many hours sitting and talking to her friend Colleen while Val played with her friend somewhere in the park. She could hardly believe Val was gone. But the building had caught fire very quickly, and half of it burned to the ground before firemen could get there. They had identified twenty people who had perished in the blaze, one of them Paul Morinelli.

The apartment door had been locked, and a section of the roof had fallen on the place where Val's room was. Though they hadn't identified the little girl's remains, Mary knew that logically she was dead, like the rest of them. Her tragic death had stunned Mary, who was still reeling from the fact that her husband had been badly injured in an accident. And now the little girl she'd raised from a newborn was gone. Gone to be with her mama, Mary thought, weeping as she came to sit down on the bench.

It was then that she saw the rock. And the letter.

Astonished, Mary picked it up. "Oh, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! How can this be!" she whispered, opening the envelope with trembling hands.

Inside was a thick creamy paper, unlike any she'd ever seen before. No, two pieces of paper, she amended. She unfolded the smaller note first and saw in awe that it was Valentina's handwriting. "No! Oh, God!" Tears springing to her eyes, she read it.

_Dear Mrs. D,_

_I wrote you a note so you know I didn't die in the fire. I wished myself to Bae's house and that's where I am now. Rumple, Bae's papa, has promised he'll take care of me now. _

_I love you._

_Val_

She almost couldn't believe what she was reading. But then she read the second note, this one written in a graceful unfamiliar hand.

_Mary,_

_Hello. Forgive me for the informal address, but I don't know how to spell your surname and don't wish to offend. I am a spinner and weaver and go by the name Rumplestiltskin. Val has become best friends with my son, Bae, and I have_ _vowed to take care of her and love her like my own now that her father is dead. Between you and me, I think I'd mourn the death of a fly more. Anyone who can treat his own daughter like he did belongs in hell. Val will never miss him and neither will anyone else, I'd think. Please let me set your mind at ease by telling you that I love Val and she will always have a home with me and be treated like my own flesh and blood. _

_Sincerely,_

_Rumplestiltskin_

She would have thought this all some hideous joke, except that there was no reason anyone would want to do this to her. She read and re-read the two letters over and over, crying tears of joy as she realized her beloved baby was safe, at long last, and she prayed Valentine have a long happy life with her new family. God knew, she deserved it.


	17. Arrow

**17**

**Arrow**

**This chapter is dedicated to Rocky, my sister's pitbull mix, who passed away yesterday.**

The rest of that week had its good and bad days for Val, as she struggled to combat the nightmares that plagued her, and adjust to her new life in Fairy Tale Land. One of the hardest things was no electricity, everything was lit by oil lamps or beeswax candles, and there was also no television. Val wasn't a television fanatic, like some children her age were, but there were a few times she caught herself looking for a TV, especially when she happened to get up before Bae or Rumple in the morning, which wasn't very often.

There was also no dishwasher, so she had to learn how to wash dishes the old fashioned way, by hand. It wasn't too bad, since Rumple helped, and washing the dishes, setting the table, and sweeping the floor were things she and Bae could do to help around the house. Rumple even taught her to wield a featherduster, and as a joke one time she "dusted" Bae, making him chase her all over the cottage until he caught her and tickled her.

By the time a week had gone by, Rumple had made over four dresses for Val and two sets of breeches and shirts for Bae. He had also completed Bae's set of clothing, and a few sets of underthings as well for both children. Val had packed a set of sneakers in the suitcase, and so she had shoes to wear for school and for playing outside. Bae still wore his old boots, though Rumple had received a note from the shoemaker that soon his new boots would be ready.

Rumple also had developed a routine for the two children, so they had breakfast, chores, and then some playtime before helping to make lunch. During the morning, Rumple either spun or wove in the shed, for it was cooler then, unlike the afternoon, where it often got sweltering.

After lunch, the children usually played outside till dusk fell, and Rumple did laundry or mended and while clothes were hung on the line drying, he prepared supper. Often Val or Bae helped him by doing simple things, like mixing something or getting vegetables and herbs from the garden or meat from the cellar.

At first Rachel baked bread and rolls for them, but soon enough, Val and Bae asked if they could learn too, and the widow held baking classes, showing the youngsters how to measure ingredients and knead dough, bake cookies, make butter, and even how to can things, though she never let them near the pressure cooker.

When they came home, the two children showed Rumple what they'd learned that day, and so they taught each other. Sometimes after supper, Rumple would play games with them, or teach them how to sew buttons and embroider handkerchiefs. Often he would make them tea or cocoa and read to them before the crackling fire until they were sleepy and climbed up into the loft for bed.

Since Val tended to wake up screaming, Rumple made a pair of cotton earplugs for Bae to wear, so he wouldn't be disturbed during the night. Val tended to fall asleep with Amanda Willa, in Rumple's bed, and later the spinner would join her, after making sure the fire was banked for the night and the door locked.

That first week, Val's nightmares kept both her and Rumple awake in the middle of the night. Most times they were of the fire, and her being trapped inside the burning apartment, or of her father or some kind of nameless beast chasing her. Once, though, she dreamed of her father beating her with a cord (which had actually happened once), and she woke up begging him to stop, so distressed and petrified she wet the bed.

Then she felt so guilty and ashamed that she went and hid in the far corner of the loft, crying hysterically.

It took Rumple a full twenty minutes to convince her that she was not in trouble, that he was not angry at her for acting like a baby, as she put it, and she needed to come out so he could help her wash up and change her clothes. While he tried to coax her out, he changed the sheets and washed the mattress with a solution of lemon juice and soap, then put an old towel down beneath the sheet on Val's side of the bed, just in case.

Then he began the rather arduous process of coaxing the terrified child to come to him, and with each minute it took, he mentally longed to have Paul Morinelli before him so he could chain the evil man to a wall and beat and degrade him the way he had his daughter.

Once he got poor Valcalmed down enough to clean up and return to bed, it was almost daybreak, and they slept in that morning, exhausted from the night's drama. Bae had, thankfully, remained asleep through all of it.

But that was the worst night of the week, after that Val seemed to realize on some instinctive level that Rumple would never be overly harsh and punish her the way her father had, and the nightmares began to dwindle away.

By the time two weeks had gone by, Val felt comfortable enough to spend an hour or so a day watching Rumple spin and weave, and help card wool and sort thread into colors. She noticed right off the stamp he used on the inside of any article of clothing or blanket he made, which was a wheel with a stylized R beside it.

"What's that mark, Rumple?" she asked one day.

"That's my master's stamp, dearie," he explained.

"What's that?"

"It's a special mark that only a master spinner and weaver who's a member of the Guild can use. That way anyone who buys clothing from me knows it was made by a Guild master, and are assured that it's top quality."

"How do you get it?"

"You need to be an apprentice to a guild member for a number of years, in my case it was my aunt. Then you become a journyman weaver and spinner, and learn techniques from another accredited member of the Guild. That took me about three years and then I had to pass my master's test, and show I could spin a certain amount of wool into fine thread and dye and weave cloth into something I could sell. I was twenty-one when I received this stamp, and the right to call myself a Guild master, and have my own stall at the market to sell my wares. Not bad at all, considering most people aren't made masters until they're twenty-five. Then again, I suppose spinning and weaving's in my blood, as I come from a long line of tailors and spinners, dearie."

"Someday, may I learn?" Val asked.

"Certainly," the spinner said, thinking how funny it was that Bae really hadn't much interest in learning the family trade at all, but this little girl, the child he'd rescued, was so eager to learn it made him smile.

She had been so enchanted with the dress he'd made for her that she wore it almost every day, only taking it off when he insisted they wash it, saying it was the best dress she'd ever owned. "Because _you_ made it," she told her new guardian, and that night she voluntarily curled up in Rumple's lap when it came time for the nightly bedtime story, and the spinner began to hope that her demons were being slowly vanquished as he gave her all the love and affection her father had denied her.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

One afternoon, Bae and Val decided to take a quarter of a loaf of Wonder bread that had gone stale and feed the birds and squirrels in the woods behind the cottage while Rumple was stuffing a small roasting chicken. He had used some of the loaf to make sage and onion stuffing, and the rest the children took.

"It's too bad we didn't have a bird feeder," Val said as they scattered bread crumbs all over the yard and then waited to see what birds would come to eat them.

"Yeah, that would be nice," Bae remarked, and then pointed out several different birds as they came to eat. "Look, Val! There's a bluejay, a sparrow, a robin, and a plover."

"What's the gray bird?"

"I think it's a mourning dove."

"How do you know all the birds, Bae?"

"Widow Tyrell taught me about them. She feeds birds all the time in her yard, and she showed me how to identify them," Bae answered.

"I don't think I'll ever be as good as you about identifying plants and animals."

"That's 'cause I've been around them longer than you. I can't read like you."

"I can teach you," Val said, eager to impart some knowledge of her own to her friend.

"Okay, and I'll teach you about animals and plants," Bae said. He pointed out some tracks in the soft dirt near the edge of the yard. "See those? A deer made them." He pointed to the cloven hoofed prints. "And here's where a rabbit lay." He pointed to another set.

Val peered hard at them, trying to remember them for next time. Sometimes she felt like a total dunce when it came to some things, like sewing and weeding and tracking. About the only thing she was really good at was reading, and they only had her fairy tale book for her to read! It made her long for the New York public library.

"How about this one?" she called to Bae, pointing at a large print some ways away from the other ones he'd shown her.

Bae came to look, his eyes widening. "That's big! It's like from a wolf or a large dog."

"I haven't seen any dog that big around here," Val gasped.

"Neither have I. The biggest dog I've ever seen is Master Tanner's old hound, that he keeps tied to a stake to scare away robbers from his tannery. Though why anybody'd want to rob that place is beyond me. It stinks!" Bae held his nose.

Val nodded. They had walked past the tannery once on their way to the market to sell thread with Rumple and she'd almost thrown up, the stench was so disgusting. She didn't know how anybody could work in there without losing their lunch or investing in a pair of noseplugs. "Let's see where this goes."

"Val, we're not supposed to go into the forest alone," Bae cautioned.

Val knew that, but she was eager to see where the tracks led, so she followed them a few feet. It was then that she heard it. "Bae! Do you hear that?"

"What?"

"Listen! I think I hear something crying."

Bae cocked his head. It sounded like something whimpering. "Yeah. Like an animal."

"Maybe something's hurt and needs help," Val said.

"Maybe. Let's go see!" Bae said, forgetting his earlier obedience in his excitement. Taking Val's hand, they ran through the thick undergrowth, following the tracks.

Soon they heard the whimpering grow louder and they peered through the trees at a large animal lying on its side in the dirt. It was the size of a big dog, like a mastiff, though not as muscular. It had a thick gray and white coat and pricked ears. One of its paws was caught in a gleaming steel trap, and that was why it was whimpering and panting.

"Val! It's a wolf!" Bae cried.

"I don't think so, Bae. Maybe it's part dog, like White Fang," Val disagreed, recalling the story by Jack London Mrs. DeLuca had read to her, toned down for children. "Look at its eyes. Wolves have gold eyes. This one had blue ones."

Bae looked as the poor animal panted shallowly and tugged futiley on its trapped paw. The big wolf-like creature did indeed have blue eyes, as well as a white chest and feet. Gray fur covered its back, tail, and ears, with an odd kind of mask about its eyes and down its muzzle. A white mark like an arrowhead was in the middle of its head, between its deep blue eyes.

"Poor dog!" he whispered. "Look at the way its paw's all bloody. That trap must really hurt."

"That's why its crying," Val said, feeling like crying herself at the poor creature's plight. "Bae, we can't just . . . leave it like this. We ought to take the trap off its foot."

"How? It's too big for us to take," Bae pointed out.

"Maybe we ought to get Rumple. He'll know how to get it off."

"Okay. Maybe he'll be so . . . worried about the dog that he'll forget to scold us for going into the woods," Bae said. "Come on, let's hurry before something happens to it."

"Like what?"

"Like maybe whoever set that trap coming back or some wild animal finding him."

They made their way back through the woods, following the tracks home again.

They found Rumple standing in the doorway of the cottage, calling them.

"Where on earth have you two been?" he demanded, a touch sternly.

"Papa! Papa, you gotta see what we found!" Bae yelled, coming up and tugging on Rumple's hand.

"Bae, I have a chicken roasting that I need to keep basting," Rumple began.

"Please, Rumple! It could die unless you help it!" pleaded Val, taking his other hand.

"Die? What is it, a baby bunny? A bird?" the spinner asked, allowing himself to be led into the woods by his two children.

When he saw the large wolf-dog lying on the forest floor in the trap he shook his head. "Good gods! _He's_ what you wanted to show me? Dearies, that's a wolf . . . or very close to one."

"We know, Papa. We want to know if you can help it," Bae said.

"It's hurting really bad, Rumple."

The spinner sighed. He could see the animal was in agony from the way it was lying and foam flecked its jaws as it panted and whimpered. Those sorts of traps were nasty and he wondered who had set this one, since most of the villagers who hunted would never set such a thing this close to their homes, lest a child stumble into it and get caught.

"I know, Val. But this is a wild animal. I don't know if I can help it without getting bitten."

"But you _have_ to, Rumple!" Val wailed, tears starting from her green eyes. "The poor thing's like gonna die if we don't help it!"

"Valentina, relax!" ordered her guardian. "I never said I wouldn't help, just that's it's going to be difficult."

He began to pace about the spot where the wolf—dog—whatever it was, lay trapped. The trap was half buried in the dirt, and the dirt was churned up all about the area where the animal was now lying. Obviously it had fought hard to get away before realizing escape was useless.

The big animal lifted its head when it saw Rumple limping about and snarled softly. Then it whined low in its throat and tried to bite the steel jaws holding it prisoner.

"Easy there, old boy," Rumple said. "If I'm going to help you, you can't chomp my hand off."

The wolf-dog's blue eyes met his own, and the spinner could swear he saw an intelligence in them unlike any animal's he'd ever known. The wolf-dog stopped growling and lay down again.

Cautiously, Rumple limped forward, thinking he must be crazy as a loon to even attempt this. But he knew Val was right. He couldn't just leave the animal here, helpless and in pain. He removed a length of rawhide from a pocket, which he carried on him just in case one of the laces on his boots snapped and he needed to mend it. He made a loop and slip-knotted one end.

Then he carefully came nearer to the wolf-dog, saying, "Now, dearie, you aren't going to like this, but I can't risk you biting me."

Then he tossed the loop over beside the dog's snout and when the animal drew back to sniff it curiously, tugged the loop over the dog's muzzle and tugged it firmly, binding the big animal's jaws shut.

"There! Now let me see about removing this nasty trap," the spinner said, scowling at the steel jaws. He detested such things, considering them cruel and inhumane, for they let an animal suffer instead of killing it mercifully.

As he knelt and probed the steel jaws, trying to find the trigger to release them, his hand brushed against the wolf-dog's paw.

Then the strangest thing happened.

It was almost as if, for an instant, he could _feel_ what the wolf dog was experiencing—the savage pain clamping down upon his foot, the steel teeth biting into tender flesh, the fear that he was unable to get away, and would end up gnawing his paw off before whoever had set this returned to finish the job.

Startled brown eyes met crystal blue ones and for three heartbeats they gazed at each other.

The wolf-dog whuffed sharply, and Rumple could swear he heard, not just a sound, but words as well.

_Help me, by Selene's Grace. Help me, magician. Do you feel it? We are one. I am yours and you are mine. Help me._

Rumple rubbed his eyes. He must be hearing things. "I'm no sorcerer, wolf. Just a spinner," he murmured, having no idea why he was telling the animal such things, as if it would understand him! Then his hands found the trigger, near the spring mechanism, and pressed it.

The trap sprang open, the deadly jaws wet with the wolf-dog's blood.

"Easy," he whispered, gently removing the injured foot. "That's bleeding rather badly, dearie." He gently felt along the paw to see if anything was broken.

The wolf-dog whimpered sharply, but made no move to get up or run away, or even to try and fight the rawhide strip about its muzzle.

"Sorry, but nothing's broken. Though I ought to clean this out, no telling what filth this thing had on it," Rumple said, blinking

The animal whined. _Freed! You have freed me from the iron jawed monster! Many thanks, sorcerer. I will come with you._

The spinner looked sharply at the big canine. "You will, eh? Well, that's good, since I could never carry you. Thin as you are, I'd wager you weigh a good ninety-five pounds." Despite how ridiculous he felt talking to the wolf-dog that way, Rumple found himself doing so as easily as if he were speaking to another person. It was damned strange.

"Papa, you did it!" Bae cheered from where he and Val had been watching.

"Are you gonna fix his paw?" asked Val.

"Yes, if he allows it. We need to get him home though," Rumple said, standing up and poking the trap with his cane so it snapped shut, thus rendering it harmless.

The big wolf-dog rolled carefully to his feet, shaking his head once. Standing, even on three legs, the animal's head came up to Rumple's chest.

"Wow! He's huge!" Bae gasped.

"Yes," the spinner said, slightly alarmed, but the wolf-dog didn't try and harm him, simply eyed the human and waited there. "I'd say he's still a young wolf, he hasn't really grown into those long legs yet."

But when he did, Rumple figured he'd be about one hundred and fifty pounds or more!

The odd quartet limped back to the cottage, and despite earlier misgivings, Rumple let the big wolf-dog into the cottage.

Once they had crossed the threshold, the big animal wrinkled his nose, sneezed, as if something in the air bothered him, then lay down on the floor. Clearly, he was still in a lot of pain, but willing to seek help from them.

Rumple asked Bae to fetch some soft cloths and Val ran and got her Bactine out of the cupboard along with some of Rumple's salve he'd used on her face. Rumple got a basin of water and turned the lamp up on the table, and also grabbed a clean dishtowel.

He spread the towel upon the floor and placed the wolf's injured paw on it, and carefully lowered himself to the ground, saying, "Now, some of what I need to do will hurt like ten hells, because I need to put in a few stitches, but if you bite me I can't help you."

The wolf-dog shook his head, and whuffed again. _Do what you must, sorcerer. It is of no matter if I can use my paw again._ He put his head down and closed his eyes.

Rumple shook his head, thinking he must be out of his mind. Then he set about cleaning the nasty wounds with water and cloths, and sprinkling them liberally with the antiseptic wash Val had said prevented infections. Along the right side of the paw gaped a deep wound, and Rumple threaded one of his sturdiest needles, after heating it with a match, and put three stitches into the animal's paw.

Amazingly, the wolf-dog never stirred, only whimpering a little as he sewed the wound shut and tied off the last stitch.

Rumple carefully put salve over the cuts and wrapped them in a length of clean linen. "There! That's all I can do. Hopefully it doesn't get infected," he told the two children, who had watched him work in silent awe. "Let me wash my hands and then I can take that rawhide strip off him and let him out."

He carefully rinsed his hands in the wash basin, emptying out the contents of the one he'd used to perform the simple operation, then he opened the back door of the cottage. "Hey," he called softly to the big wolf. "You can go now."

The animal raised his head and looked at him, his blue gaze somehow knowing and disconcerting.

"Oh, right," the spinner knelt and removed the slip knot. "There! Now you can leave."

He waited for the wild beast to run from the cottage now that he was free of all restraints.

The wolf-dog remained lying down, his tongue coming out to lick his nose, making no move to go anywhere. _Thirsty._

"Papa, I don't think he wants to leave," Bae told him seriously.

"Bae, he's a wild animal. They hate being cooped up," Rumple argued. "Well, what are you waiting for? You can go," he said to the wolf.

The big animal shook his head again and remained where he was. _Tired. Thirsty._ He panted slightly, revealing large fangs.

Utterly flummoxed by this behavior, Rumple left the door ajar in case the animal decided to leave, then went and got a bowl and filled it with some water from the well. To it he added a sprinkling of ground willowbark, figuring it couldn't hurt and might stave off a fever. "Here. This has medicine in it, so it'll taste strange, but drink it."

He set the bowl down next to the wolf's head.

The animal turned and lapped the water, shaking his head and wrinkling his lips at the weird taste, but then drinking despite it.

Bae giggled softly. "He looks like I do when I have to take yucky medicine."

"I put some willowbark in there," Rumple informed him.

Bae made a face. "Yuck! That's stuff's gross."

While the wolf drank, Rumple and the children cleaned up and the spinner had the two wash up for supper and set the table.

While he was checking on the chicken in the oven and basting it, it had cooked to a nice golden crisp on the outside, and stirring the carrots, peas, and potatoes alongside it, Val eyed the wolf lying on the floor and said, "Rumple, can we keep him? Please?"

The spinner groaned, he'd known that was coming.

"Yeah, Papa. Please?" Bae added, giving him puppydog eyes.

Rumple shut the oven door and turned to face the two hopeful children. "This isn't a pet, you two. Like I said, this is a wild animal, and he belongs in the forest. Whether or not he chooses to stay here isn't up to any of us. It's up to him."

Bae looked at the wolf sprawled on the floor. "Then he can stay? You won't kick him out?"

"Me, kick him out? Bae, I doubt I can move him a few feet," Rumple snorted. "Like I said before, he's free to come and go as he pleases. And right now it seems he wishes to take a nap on my kitchen floor. So just leave him be. Perhaps later he'll leave."

Val looked upset. "I wish he'd stay. He's so beautiful. Look at his head. It's like he has an arrow inbetween his eyes."

Bae nodded. "Yeah. I saw that too. I wish I could pet him."

"Don't you dare, young man!" the spinner ordered sharply. "That beast could take your arm off."

"But he didn't bite you when you were fixing him," Val objected. "I don't think he's a mean wolf."

"Mean or not, dearie, that's not a tame animal. He was born wild and you can't trust him to behave like a pet," Rumple said seriously. "So you can look at him, but don't touch!"

"I think we should give him a name," Bae said suddenly.

"A name? What do you think he is, a dog?" laughed his father.

"Everything ought to have a name," Val said softly.

"You can think about a name while we eat supper," Rumple said. "It should be done in about ten minutes." He cleared his throat and said, rather sternly, "And you're lucky I'm not making you both go without it for disobeying me and wandering off into the forest. What on earth were you thinking?"

"I'm sorry!" Val suddenly cringed and backed up into a chair, her lower lip trembling. "We didn't mean to!"

"We just wanted to see what was crying, Papa," said Bae, looking guilty also.

"You should have come and gotten me, not gone off alone like that," their father scolded. "You might have gotten lost or eaten by something or stolen away. Don't do it again, clear?"

Both children nodded.

He moved then and hugged them, saying, "Val, dearie, don't cry. I'm not going to punish you."

The little girl was shivering and saying she was sorry over and over into his tunic.

Bae stared at her, puzzled. "Papa, is she . . . umm . . .?"

"She'll be all right, Bae. She's just a little nervous, son. Go sit down," Rumple told him, then knelt and took his frightened daughter by the shoulders and said quietly, "Valentina, listen to me. Just because I scolded you doesn't mean I'll hurt you. I'm not like him, sweetheart. Remember my promise?"

"Y-yes," she sniffled.

"Good. I've kept it, right?"

She nodded.

"Okay. Now dry your eyes and go sit down next to Bae so I can get this chicken out before it burns to a crisp and we're all eating peanut butter and jelly for supper." He ruffled her hair and then turned her around and gently tapped her backside to get her moving again.

Val wiped her eyes on the dishtowel Rumple handed her and went to sit down, relieved that she wasn't in trouble. She slid into her seat next to Baelfire and whispered, "Sometimes I just . . . get scared."

Bae squeezed her hand. "It's okay. What shall we name the wolf?"

They discussed possible names as they ate the delicious roasted chicken and vegetables, and Rumple had them pick over the carcass and put some of the shredded chicken into a bowl for the sleeping wolf-dog.

"The rest I'll save for soup tomorrow along with the vegetables," he said. He filled the large cauldron with water and put the carcass inside it and let it simmer over the fire, as it would cook down into a broth by tomorrow morning and make a good meal for lunch. He looked back at their unexpected visitor and said, "Hopefully he's not ravenous when he wakes, because the chicken is probably a mouthful to an animal like him. What have you decided to call him?"

"Arrow," Bae said. "'Cause he has an arrow on his forehead."

Val smiled. "Is he all wolf, Rumple?"

"Probably part," mused the spinner, studying the sleeping animal. "He's got the wolf coloring and face, but those eyes and the size . . . no wolf is that big. I think he might be part dog, one of the big forest dogs that they breed north of here. They're very large animals, bred for hauling sleds and protecting their villages, though they're usually white and they have blue eyes. They look sort of like wolves, but it's said they're gentle as kittens with their masters. But fierce fighters when threatened. He could have some forest dog in him."

"Does that make him tame then?" she asked.

"No, dearie, just huge. Now let's wash the dishes and then we can play a game before we eat dessert and get ready for bed." He turned to bring the roasting pan and a dish over to the tub where they washed up and while his back was turned, Bae and Val crept over to the sleeping wolf-dog—Arrow—and gently touched the sleek fur.

Arrow opened one blue eye lazily, then went back to sleep.

The two children looked at one another and smiled, a secret smile, before going and helping with the rest of the dishes. Somehow they knew, without being told, that Arrow was not an ordinary animal, wolf or otherwise, and they had gained, not a pet, but a friend that day.


	18. Arrow's Pledge

**18**

**Arrow's Pledge**

While Arrow slept sprawled on the kitchen floor, Bae, Val, and Rumple played Go Fish and Candy Land at the table, while drinking cups of hot cocoa and eating some donuts Rachel had made for them, sprinkled with sugar. As dusk fell over the land, Rumple told the two to get ready for bed.

"Aww, Papa! I'm not even sleepy!" protested his small son.

"I'm not really either," Val said, then she cringed slightly, because voicing any kind of dissent in her old home had always gotten her in the worst trouble.

Rumple looked at the two children, and said, "Now, what did I say? Did I say go to bed? Or did I say just to get ready for it?"

"The second one," Bae said.

"Right. Now go on and do what I said. Or else no bedtime story."

At that awful threat, the two jumped up and raced over to the bathroom, anxious to be the first one to wash up and then go up to the loft and put on their night clothes.

"Me first!" called Bae.

"No, me!" Val said. "Ladies first."

Bae sighed. "Fine! I'll wait. But don't take forever, else I'll pee on the floor."

"Eew!" Val squealed. "Never mind, you can go first."

"Only kidding," he smirked.

Val stuck her tongue out at him, then she went inside the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her hands and use the toilet. She took about five minutes, then emerged and said, "Okay, done!"

Bae popped in and Val walked quickly across the floor and climbed the ladder to get into her nightgown. When she had arrived, she only had the one she'd come through the portal in, but Rumple had made her a new one with some pretty embroidery on it of little birds and moons and stars on the collar and the hem, of soft summer weight cotton, and a bit of lace on the puffed sleeves. He'd also knitted her a pair of fuzzy socks to wear in place of slippers, and she pulled them on along with her new nightie.

Then she climbed down the ladder and "skated" across the floor to show her guardian her new clothes. She went so fast she almost crashed right into Rumple, saving herself at the last minute by grabbing onto a nearby kitchen chair.

"Easy, Val! You almost knocked me down," he chided gently.

"I'm sorry! The floor's slippery," she said contritely.

"No harm done, dearie," Rumple said, and ruffled her hair. "How lovely you look in your new nightie and socks."

Val beamed up at him. "Am I really lovely, Rumple? Or are you just sayin' that? Papa used to say . . . he'd say I was . . . a scrawny little imp and nothin' to look at. Not like my mama. My mama was _really_ lovely."

"And _you're_ her daughter and just as lovely, my pretty girl. How about we make a deal to never remember any nasty thing your papa said about you, okay? He's gone and you're my daughter now and you're as pretty as primrose, Valentina. And that's the gods' honest truth, sweetie." Then he playfully tweaked her nose.

She giggled and stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. "Okay. I'll try and remember."

"Remember what?" asked Bae, coming over to them with the fairy tale book in his hands.

"That I'm pretty like Rumple says," Val answered.

"Who says you're not?"

"My papa used to."

"What an idiot!" Bae snorted. "He didn't know anything! You're prettier than half the girls in the village, Val. So there!"

She found herself absurdly pleased with the way Bae defended her. "Thanks!" she said, somewhat shyly. Maybe her papa had been wrong.

"Let's read a story, Papa," suggested Bae.

They headed over to where the rockers were in front of the fire, which crackled merrily in the grate. Tonight it was Bae's turn to sit on Rumple's lap and turn the pages, while Val curled up in the rocker next to them with Amanda Willa in her lap.

"What story shall we read tonight, dearies?" inquired the spinner.

"You pick, Bae," Val said, for she had done so last night.

Bae looked at the different pictures beside the names of the stories, and though he couldn't read, he could still get the gist of a story by looking at the illustration. "That one!" he pointed to a picture of a little gray duckling.

"Okay. _The Ugly Duckling_ it is," Rumple said, and turned to the page where it began.

Val smiled, for she liked this story, and listened happily while Rumple read the story of the duckling who didn't look like all his siblings and was made fun of for being different and "ugly", but in the end the ugly duckling became a swan, and far more beautiful than anyone ever thought.

"I like that story, Papa," Bae said after it was over.

"I do too. Because it shows that you should always look beyond the outside appearance and see the inside of something or someone. The ugly duckling was actually beautiful on the inside long before he became a swan. That's something you ought to remember, children."

"We will," Bae said. "Right, Val?"

"Mmm-hmm," she murmured, yawning.

"Looks like someone's sleepy," Rumple said quietly. "Why don't you go on up to bed? I'll be along as soon as I make sure the door's shut and the fire banked."

While the two kids padded up to the loft, Rumple went and shut the back door. He glanced at the wolf-dog still lying on the floor and said, "I hope you don't need to go out during the night. Sleep well."

Arrow snored on, but his tail thumped lightly on the floor.

Rumple shook his head and then continued on up to the loft.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

The next morning, Rumple came downstairs early, figuring on making up some biscuits while the children slept. When he saw Arrow standing at the back door, he opened it and said, "I suppose you'll be leaving now?"

The wolf-dog shook his head and calmly walked out of the door and into the yard.

Rumple turned away, figuring it was best if the animal left now before the children became too attached to him. He went to get the flour and baking soda from the cupboard, as well as a mixing bowl and a spoon. When he turned around, the big wolf-dog was back inside the cottage, sitting alertly next to the table.

"You're not leaving?" he stammered.

_Do you wish me to leave, magician? I go where I wish, and no man is my master._

Rumple shook his head. There it was again, that voice in his head! "I'm _not_ a sorcerer, wolf!" he protested. "Just a spinner named Rumplestiltskin. And you can do as you please, but why would you want to stay here when you have the whole woods to roam in?"

_I came here for you. Why do you deny what you are?_

"Me? I don't understand. I have no magic. I'm an ordinary man, as you see," he said, setting the things on the counter.

Arrow whuffed. _You are about as ordinary as I am, spinner. Denying the truth does not make it so. I didn't come all the way from the northern lands and leave my pack to chase a dream. You are my wizard, Rumplestiltskin. And I am your familiar. Your magic has bound us together, can you not feel it?_

"_You_ are certifiably crazy! I'm a crippled master spinner, nothing more. I never summoned you, and if you're going to stay here I want you to pledge to never harm my children."

The wolf-dog cocked his head at him. _Stubborn! Then again, my mother always said sorcerers are stubbornner than honey badgers with thorns in their paws. Very well. I shall pledge never to harm your pups. Though it is unnecessary, magician. You and they are my pack now, and I shall protect you with my life if necessary. Your pups have nothing to fear from me._ He licked his nose. _Would you mind getting me some water? That stuff you gave me makes me thirsty._

"One minute," Rumple said, and went out to the well and drew up a bucket of water.

He poured half into a bowl for Arrow and some into the wash basin in the bathroom, the rest he kept to use in making the biscuits. He still was a bit disconcerted to have the animal "talking" at him like that, but assumed it must be because Arrow was a magical wolf, or whatever he was. Certainly the idea that _he_ had magic was totally ridiculous! There had been a traveling sorcerer once that had come through the village when he was a boy, and if he'd had the gift, surely the man would have known and apprenticed him on the spot. Rumple recalled being made to stay inside his house that day, spinning, and had caught barely a glimpse of the sorcerer on his fine gray steed as he rode away. The wolf was crazy . . . or maybe it wasn't him, but Val he'd sensed. Now _she_ had power, even though she was unaware of it. Yes, that was probably the case.

He carefully mixed up the batch of dough and formed twelve biscuits, then set them to rise on the baking sheet covered in a cloth for awhile. As he started up the oven and stirred the fire to life, he glanced again at the big wolf-dog. "Do you, perhaps, have a name?"

_None that you would be able to pronounce._

"Bae and Val have named you Arrow."

_Then you may call me that. Thank you for the food, though I can hunt my own. When my paw heals._ He sniffed at the bandage.

"Don't bite that," Rumple said. "Let me see how it looks today." After washing his hands, he limped over to Arrow and gently undid the bandage and examined the paw, which was swollen and slightly red where he'd put the stitches in. "Hmm. Not too bad. Let me put some more medicine on it and a new bandage. Keeping it clean is the best way I know to stave off infection."

_I should lick it. Licking helps._

"No. Just let me do this," Rumple said. "Mouths are dirty."

Arrow snorted, but let the spinner dress his wound again, lying down afterwards.

"So, what exactly are you—a wolf or a dog? Or both?" he queried.

Arrow curled a lip. _A dog? Don't insult me, magician! I was born wild, like all my kind. Well, save for the first ones, the Ancestors. But even they began as wild wolves, not some person's pets! Faugh! I am of the Free People, it is said that long ago, a sorceress wished for a companion, one that would be with her always, and not age and die in an eyeblink like an animal. She also wanted a protector and a friend. So she took a wolf of the north, a great gray one, and she . . . altered it with her magic. She gave to him strength of body and mind, and a heart full of courage and loyalty, she made him more than just a beast of the forest, she gave to him keener senses and a mind that could think and know, and lastly she made it so he could not age like ordinary beasts, only slowly, and made him immune to dark castings, so he could protect her from her enemies. He was the First Ancestor. In time, she made a mate for him, and they had pups, and so on. Soon other sorcerers came, and asked her to give them one of her companions._

"That's very interesting. Did she?"

_No, for she said they were not hers to give. They are free, and they must choose. If you are meant to have a familiar, one will choose you, she said. It cannot be forced, for these are not mere animals. Then what are they, the other sorcerers asked. And she said, they call themselves the Free People, but I shall name them grimm wolves, for they have magic of their own from my grimoire, and they were born to be a sorcerer's companion, if they so choose. But the choice is theirs, for they are thinking beings, and so it has been, from that day to this._

"You're telling me there's a whole race of . . . of wolves out there born to be a sorcerer's companions?" Rumple repeated. "I've never heard of that!"

Arrow eyed him, and panted slightly. _And do you know everything that occurs beyond the walls of this place? I think not. Those who wield magic know of my kind, though it is rare now for one of us to travel so far to seek a wizard. But I felt the Call, and that is why I am here._

"Perhaps you were mistaken. My little daughter has magic. I believe she's a realms walker. Maybe you sensed _her_, not me."

_And maybe pigs will fly. I know she has the gift, but she is too young yet to bond with a familiar. You are not. Deny it all you wish, magician, but someday you shall see I'm right._

"When pigs fly!" Rumple rolled his eyes. Then he rose to put the biscuits in the oven.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Val and Bae were delighted that Arrow was going to stay with them, and they soon made the big wolf part of their little family. Despite his size, neither child feared him, and soon they were playing with him in the backyard as if he were the family dog. The grimm wolf, for all his huge bulk, and injured paw, was quick and fluid on his feet, and was careful to never bite or snap at the children when they romped together. On occasion he would knock them down, but it was all in fun, and Bae or Val would just laugh and pick themselves up afterwards.

Rumple made Arrow a collar out of an old leather pack strap, putting one of his brass master tags on it, with the stylized R and wheel symbol. "If you're going to be staying here, you'll need to wear this, so the villagers don't mistake you for a wild wolf and harm you," he told Arrow once the collar was finished.

_Stupid people! As if anyone could mistake me for an ordinary wolf!_ Arrow heaved a long-suffering sigh and allowed the spinner to fasten the collar about his neck. _I shall wear it, but don't think for a minute you own me, Rumple! I am of the Free People, and I choose to be with you._

"Yes, I know, now don't get in a snit, dearie. This is for your own protection, so you don't get a real arrow in your head," Rumple said, gently caressing the wolf's neck as he sat at the kitchen table.

_A snit? I'll show you a snit!_ Arrow mock-growled, then he put both front paws on Rumple's knees and licked his whole face.

"Ahh! Wolf, your breath stinks!" the spinner gasped, hastily wiping his face.

Arrow whuffed, his blue eyes glinting mischievously, as he got down and shook himself, making the tag on his collar jingle. _My breath smells perfectly normal, sorcerer. It's yours that's odd, and smells of green things and plants._

"It's called mint and baking soda," the spinner informed the wolf. "And maybe I ought to brush your teeth with it."

Arrow wrinkled his lips in disgust. _Try it and you'll be missing a hand. I'm a grimm wolf, we eat meat, not smelly plants!_

"You like peanut butter and jelly. I've seen you eat it when Bae and Val give you some," Rumple pointed out.

_That's different. It tastes good,_ Arrow defended. _Like leather._

Rumple scowled. "You're lucky I still like you after you chewed my good boots. You cost me nine silvers, Arrow!"

_How was I to know they weren't something to eat? They smelled like dead cows! Though cow tastes better, especially fresh._

"Next time you chew anything, I'll make a rug out of your hide," the spinner threatened.

_Ha! In order to do that, Rumple, you'd have to catch me first, and I run faster than you even with this lame paw, magician!_ Arrow laughed.

"I'll do it when you're asleep."

_I sleep with one eye open,_ the wolf teased. _Next time don't wear such juicy tasting things on your feet._

"Next time keep your teeth where they belong, you walking carpet," Rumple mock-growled.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Bae and Val were running in the yard with Arrow the next week when Rachel came by with some peach cobbler she'd baked. "Land sakes, Rumple!" she gasped upon seeing Arrow romping with the children. "What on earth ye got there? A dire wolf?"

"Hello, Rachel!" Rumple greeted her from the porch. "That's Arrow. We rescued him from a trap a week past and he's decided to stay with us. He makes a great playmate for the children."

"Yeah, an' gods help anybody tryin' to hurt one of 'em! That beastie will chomp 'em up and spit 'em out quicker than a giant can eat yer head off!" Rachel said, staring at the huge animal as he padded around the yard, playing tag with the two children. "What is he?"

"A pain in the ass," the spinner said. "He's well, I don't really know. Part wolf and part dog, perhaps," he murmured, thanking the gods Arrow couldn't hear him say that last thing. But he could hardly tell his neighbor he had a talking grimm wolf in his yard. Especially when he was the only one who could hear Arrow talk, since Val was too young for the wolf to speak with that way, or so Arrow said. He was already known as a coward, though his reputation had improved some since he'd told Milah off in public before she'd left, the last thing he needed was to be known as odd too.

The two children slid to a stop once they noticed Rachel and ran over to her.

"Widow Tyrell, come and meet Arrow!" Bae said, taking her hand.

"He's our new friend," Val told her. "Bae and I found him stuck in this nasty trap and we got Rumple to free him and now he stays with us, kind of like a pet but not really 'cause he's still wild."

"I see. He's a mighty big animal, lassie," Rachel said, eying the wolf uneasily. "Looks like an ogre's puppydog."

Arrow trotted up to them, his blue eyes bright with curiosity. _Puppydog! Me? Lady, I eat ogres for breakfast!_

Rumple bit his lip hard to keep from laughing as the wolf sat down before the widow, he came up to her chest, and solemnly offered his paw, which still had the stitches in it, but was no longer bandaged, as it was healing nicely.

Rachel took it, her eyes wide, as it was as large as her hand, and said, "Why, Rumple! He's got nice manners fer such a huge beastie. Pleased t'me ye, Arrow. I'm Rachel."

Arrow gave a short half-bark in greeting and twitched his tail. _Likewise. You smell like bread and peaches._

"We taught him that," Bae said proudly. "But he's much smarter than a regular dog."

"Aye, I can see it. And he's much bonnier, with those blue eyes o' his. Never saw an animal with those eyes before."

_It's because I'm special,_ Arrow preened.

Rumple rolled his eyes.

Rachel caressed the wolf's head, marveling at the soft texture of his fur. Her hands found the spot behind his ears and scratched it. "Oh, you're a fine bonny laddie, ain't so?"

_You bet, lady! Oh, yeah! Right there, oh that feels so good, more, yes, ooh, you can pet me anytime,_ Arrow crooned, graciously allowing the widow to scratch the good spot behind his ears which he could never reach with his paw.

"You've got him eating out of your hand, Rachel," Rumple snickered. "Some guardian he is."

Arrow half-barked at him. _Hey! Watch it, magician! I'm a better guardian than any of your overbred dogs!_

"Now ye've hurt his feelings, Rumple," Rachel scolded. "Dinna listen t'him, laddie! Ye're a fine braw watchdog, ain't cha?"

_Yeah, what she said!_ Arrow sniffed, then he heard an odd rustling in the grass just behind where Val was standing. Going instantly on alert, the big wolf sniffed hard, wrinkling his nose as the acrid cold stench of a viper hit his nose. His ears went flat against his head then and he bounded forward, snarling silently, bringing his body inbetween Val and the viper slithering up to strike at her.

_Not on **my** watch, you coldblooded poison spawn!_

Val screamed as Arrow shoved her hard with his shoulder, sending her sprawling.

"Arrow! What the blazes!" Rumple shouted, for all he saw in the span of a minute was the wolf suddenly lunging and knocking down his daughter. "Have you gone mad?"

Arrow ignored the spinner's question, his nostrils filled with the scent of the deadly two-step viper, so called because once bitten it took two steps and you were dead from the venom. As the snake coiled and struck, Arrow danced right, moving swifter than the viper due to his enhanced physiology, and the snake missed.

Spinning about with lightning swiftness, the grimm wolf snatched the viper out of the grass and bit it hard behind the head, killing it with one snap. Then he stood still, the dead yellow viper dangling from his jaws.

"Heavens! A viper!" gasped Rachel. "Be ye hurt, Val?"

Val had picked herself up from the ground by then. "No. I'm okay."

"Val, are you all right?" Rumple cried, coming down off the porch, his eyes wide with alarm. "It didn't . . . get you did it?"

"No. I . . . didn't even know it was there," Val said, shaking a little as she realized how close she had come to dying two feet from her own front door.

"But Arrow did," Bae said. "And he saved you." He went to pet the wolf on the head. "That's a good boy, Arrow! Kill all the nasty vipers."

Rumple hugged Val for a few moments, whispering, "Okay now, dearie?"

Val nodded, then she withdrew from his arms and ran over to hug Arrow, who had laid the dead viper down in the grass and licked her face and then Bae's. "Thank you! You're such a brave wolf," she crooned, not minding if he slobbered all over her.

"All right, you two, best go inside and wash up so you can have some of Rachel's cobbler," Rumple said, and the two children ran inside.

"I'll just go put this on the table," the widow said, smiling and following them inside.

Rumple turned to Arrow and said, "I owe you an apology. Val would have been dead if not for you. How in hell did you move so fast? I never even saw that damned snake."

_I am a grimm wolf. I smelled the viper long before I saw it, and I can move quicker than thought when I choose to. No bloated puff adder will harm pups on my watch, sorcerer. _

"Again, my thanks, Arrow. You're a true friend," Rumple said sincerely, and he stroked the wolf's ears.

Arrow leaned into his hand, sighing happily. _My pleasure, Rumple. Now if you'd only start believing you have magic, things would be perfect._

"You're dreaming, wolf," the spinner said. "I'll bury that later. Now come in and have some cobbler. You'll like that."

_For sure I will. I love peaches._ Arrow licked his nose. _And I need to get that nasty taste out of my mouth. Viper, ugh! Disgusting!_

"Thought you only ate meat," Rumple teased.

_Usually. And insolent sorcerers who get on my nerves,_ Arrow returned, and then walked beside Rumple as they entered the cottage.

Rachel was happy to give Arrow an extra large slice of peach cobbler, and Rumple a ham bone which he had been saving for pea soup, but figured his wolf friend deserved it more, and they could always eat peanut butter and jam or scrambled eggs and bacon if necessary.

That night, Val brushed Arrow's thick gray and white coat till it gleamed, for tomorrow was market day and the first time he would accompany the family into the village proper, so she wanted him to look beautiful, so people would admire him.

"Don't make him too pretty, Val," Bae said. "He's supposed to be a guard wolf, remember?"

"I know, but he doesn't have to look scruffy, like he rolled in the dirt," the little girl said, smoothing a piece of the wolf's ruff.

_You have something against dirt?_ Arrow queried, his blue eyes twinkling.

"She's a girl. They all do," Rumple remarked from his wheel as he spun. "Almost time for bed, you two. Val, come here, I need to brush you off, you have Arrow's fur all over you." He beckoned her to come by him so he could use his lint brush to remove the fur from her nightgown.

"It tickles, Rumple," Val giggled as he ran the brush up and down her.

"Stay still, you're twitching like a june-bug," he ordered, gently pulling her onto his lap to finish the job. "There! Bae, do you need a turn?"

"Uh . . . kind of," his son said, examining his breeches, which had some fur on them.

"Come here then."

As Bae came to have a turn getting brushed off, Val sang happily about somewhere over the rainbow, and got the fairy tale book from its place on the shelf and brought it over to the table before the fire. She could hardly wait for market day tomorrow, and see what the other villagers said about Rumple's newest addition to the family.

**A/N: So how do you like Arrow now? Just so you know, grimm wolves are my own invention.**

**Next: This market day brings trials and tribulations for Rumple and his family.**


	19. The Proclamation

**19**

**The Proclamation**

Bae and Val were up with the sun the next morning, tiptoeing down the ladder and into the bathroom to get washed up and dressed even before Rumple woke. Bae let Arrow outside before he went into the bathroom, and Val managed to get a half full bucket of water from the well so they could give the wolf some to drink and wash with it. Both children were eager to start the day, and set the table before going back up to the loft to get dressed.

"It's too bad we couldn't start up the fire," Val said.

"We're too little to even go by the fire," Bae reminded her. "We'd get in like the worst trouble of our lives if we even tried that. Like a spanking with five swats and no market day."

"No thanks! The fire can wait. Last one up to the loft is a rotten egg!"

They scurried across the floor and Val almost beat Bae to the ladder.

Once up in the loft, however, they grew quiet, and quickly dressed in their good clothes. Bae had on his new blue shirt and tan leggings Rumple had made him, and Val chose her favorite dress that he'd made for her, the pretty rose print calico. Once they'd put on their boots and sneakers, all that was left was to fix their hair, which neither of them could do very well on their own.

Rumple woke up to the sound of little voices giggling over the fairy tale book on the floor, and yawned and stretched. "Heavens, I must have overslept," he muttered, sitting up.

"You didn't, Papa," Bae said. "It's only six-thirty. But we just got up extra early."

"Uh huh. I can see that. Come downstairs then, and you can set the table while I get the fire going and wash up," he said, rising from the bed and wincing, for his leg was stiff this morning.

"Already did that, Rumple," Val informed him, but the two children followed him down the ladder anyhow.

Rumple thanked them for setting the table without prompting, and once he had finished shaving, cooked eggs, bacon, and toast for all of them, including Arrow, before he gathered up all his thread, handkerchiefs, scarves, and blankets he'd made to sell. He put them into his two large packs and prepared to carry them over his shoulder like usual.

Arrow nudged his hand. _I can carry those if you'd like, Rumple._

"You're not a dog, remember?" the spinner reminded, gently teasing.

The grimm wolf whined. _Of course not. But that doesn't mean I can't help out my wizard when necessary. Let me carry one of those, so you don't fall down on the road._

"Thanks. I think," Rumple muttered, then he went and put one of the packs on Arrow, fastening the straps beneath the big wolf's front legs. "Is that okay? Not too tight?"

_It's fine, magician. This is nothing,_ Arrow said.

"Good. Okay, children. Are we all ready to leave?"

"Yes!" they yelled, and then Rumple led the way out the door and into the lane.

**Page~*~*~*~*~*~Break**

There weren't many villagers down at the market yet when they arrived at their usual stall, and with two kids helping, Rumple got his wares set up faster than usual. Arrow lay down in the shade on the side of the stall, his blue eyes taking in everything around him.

Val and Bae had been to help Rumple before on market day, and once the booth was set up, they went to see Elsie and Annie at their booths. The two women greeted them and said how fine they looked in their new clothes, making Bae blush and Val feel oddly pleased that people besides Rumple and Bae found her good to look upon.

"Look at our new friend!" Val said to Annie. "His name's Arrow and he can help Papa watch the stall while we're over here." She pointed to the wolf lying in the shade beside their stall.

Annie gasped, her eyes wide. "Good heavens, child! That's . . . one huge . . . it can't be a wolf, now. Is it part dog?"

"Umm . . . well, we're not sure," Bae said, for Rumple had told them they mustn't tell people that Arrow was a magical grimm wolf. "We found him hurt in the woods behind our cottage and Papa fixed his paw up and now he's decided to stay with us. He carried one of our packs to market today and he saved Val from getting bitten by a viper the other day."

"Truly? He's quite an animal," Annie said, impressed.

"You've _no_ idea," Val said. "He's like a hero dog."

Annie gazed at the blue-eyed wolf lounging on the ground and said, "He looks mighty fearsome. Are you sure you can trust 'em?"

"Of course we can," Bae said stoutly. Then he pulled Val across the way to see a display of wooden toys.

While they were looking at the puppets and wooden animals and jointed dolls, Val felt someone grab Amanda Willa from her arm. "Hey!" she yelled. "You give me my doll back!"

Benny and Marty Thatcher stood there, wearing identical sneers on their faces. "Make us, you little witch! We're gonna throw this poppet into the manure pile and watch you dig for it—har har har!"

"You knock it off right now!" Bae ordered angrily, clenching his small fists.

"Or what, Bayberry? You gonna try and stop us? You're a no-account piece of trash just like your no-good coward father!" Benny laughed, holding Amanda Willa high in the air.

"Come and get it, coward's brats! Let's see how high you can jump!" Marty taunted.

"You rotten bullies!" Val cried. "Yo mama's so stupid she needs twice as much sense to be a half-wit!" Then she ran up and kicked Marty in the leg.

"Oww! You miserable little witch!" he cried, drawing back a hand. "Why I oughta—"

There came a soft growl from behind them.

The boy froze. "Benny? What . . . was that?"

His brother turned slowly, and then screamed. "Ahh! It's a wolf! Run, Marty! It's gonna eat us!"

He threw Amanda Willa at Arrow, who caught the doll neatly in his mouth, and then bolted down the row of stalls, followed by his brother, the two of them yelping in terror.

"Run away, you cowards!" Bae called after them. "Little babies, are you afraid of the big bad wolf?"

Arrow wagged his tail and brought Amanda Willa back to Val.

"Thanks, Arrow!" Val said, and petted him, then took her cherished doll from him and hugged her.

Arrow panted, then licked her gently before trotting off to lie beside the stall again, the tag on his collar jingling.

"Guess he showed them!" Bae said, and he high fived Val. "I'll bet they're running all the way home to hide in a closet."

"Serves them right," Val said. "Let's go see Elsie, then we can see if Rumple needs help selling anything before lunch."

But when they got back to the stall, they found Rumple doing a brisk business with some customers. He had sold three spools of thread and five handkerchiefs to a pretty girl in a blue kerchief accompanied by an older woman. "Sir, this is the finest thread I've ever seen around here," the girl was saying. "So fine and so beautifully dyed. Did you make it yourself?"

"I did, dearie," Rumple said calmly, smiling at her. "I made whatever you see here. Rumplestiltskin, master spinner and weaver, at your service."

The girl looked delighted. She turned to the older woman and said, "Elspeth, is this not the finest thread you've ever seen? Even Madam Tully can't spin so fine!"

"Indeed, Miss Aria, 'tis fine, and good enough to embroider your bridal linens," Elspeth said.

"Maybe I should get another one of the blue thread. And some of this green as well, it's like the color of emeralds!" Aria cried happily. As she picked up two more spools of thread, an angry man in brown leather with straw colored hair stomped over to Rumplestiltskin's stall.

"What's this I hear about you settin' wild animals on my kids, you bloody coward?" demanded Perry Thatcher.

Rumple looked up at the bigger man and said quietly, "I don't know what you're talking about, Perry. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have customers to attend to."

Thatcher leaned right on the stall and snarled, "Well, I don't please, Rumple, now you answer me a'fore I—"

"Sir!" snapped Elspeth. "Have you no manners at all, to interrupt a lady when she's speaking to a merchant? Why don't you quit your infernal bellowing and wait your turn?"

"Who asked you, you interfering old busybody?" growled Perry, who had no respect for women.

"Don't you talk to Elspeth that way, you ignorant lout!" snapped Aria haughtily.

Perry glared at her. "Who do ye think ye are, you high-and-mighty piece?"

Aria drew herself up and said coldly, "I am Lady Aria Mistlethwaite, and if you're not careful I'll have you thrown in the stocks for addressing me in such an uncouth manner, as well as disturbing the peace."

Thatcher was instantly contrite, knowing full well the power a noblewoman had over common folk here. "Beggin' yer pardon, milady. I had no idea . . . I . . ." He gave a rather awkward bow, then said sharply to Rumplestiltskin, "This ain't over, Rumple!" He backed away, almost tripping over his big feet.

"I apologize, Lady Aria. Perry's . . . a bit of an idiot sometimes," Rumple said. "Now, which thread were you thinking about buying?"

"I'll have the blue one . . . and the green one . . . oh, and this rose one too," Aria said, choosing several spools of each. "And you tell that . . . insolent lout if he starts anything with you, master spinner, he's going to deal with me!"

"That's very kind of you, milady," Rumple said, surprised that a complete stranger would take his side for any reason. He glanced down to see Val and Bae beside him, staring at the fine lady, who looked about seventeen, in awe. "Hello, children. Did something happen with you two and Master Thatcher's sons?"

"Papa, one of them stole Val's doll while we were looking at the toys over there and said he was gonna throw it in the manure pile," Bae said.

"And he said we were cowards and called me a witch," added Val. "And his brother tried to hit me."

"Rotten brats!" Elspeth said, scowling.

"Then what happened?" Rumple asked sensing there was more to the story.

"And then Arrow came and he growled a little at them," Bae continued. "And Benny started screaming and threw Amanda Willa at him and he caught it in his mouth while they ran screaming up the street."

"But he didn't hurt them none," Val defended the big wolf. "And he brought Amanda Willa back to me and then went and lay down."

"He was just protecting us, Papa!" Bae said. "He didn't hurt anybody, just scared those two bullies good when he growled at them."

"And if Benny and Marty said different, they're both a pack of liars," Val said hotly. "You can ask Master Carver, he saw the whole thing," she said, indicating the toymaker across the way.

"Arrow!" Rumple whistled softly.

The grimm wolf rose and padded into the booth, standing a head taller than the top of the table. _All I did was scare those nasty brats good, Rumple! They were picking on your pups and deserved a good nip on the rump, but I let them alone, and just gave them a warning . . . this time._

"My goodness!" Aria cried. "Is that your . . . dog, sir?"

"He looks like a wolf!" gasped Elspeth.

"No wolf's that big," Aria disagreed. "That's a dog, right?"

"That's a dangerous beast, is what that is!" Thatcher cried. "What you thinkin', bringing a wild animal like that here, Rumplestiltskin?"

The spinner turned to look at Perry, saying, "And would a wild animal wear a collar, Perry?" he indicated the collar about Arrow's neck.

Perry sputtered, now noticing the collar. "No, but . . . how dare you set that brute on my sons? I oughta knock yer teeth down your throat!"

"Perry, it's your kids who were starting with Rumple's," objected Master Carver. "I saw them come up and take his little girl's doll and they weren't doin' nothing to them. Yours were starting trouble, like they allus do, and that dog or whatever was just lookin' out for his master's family."

Perry went beet red. "What're you sayin', Carver?"

"I'm sayin' you got no call to threaten Rumple like that when it's your own you oughta be ridin' herd on, Perry Thatcher," returned the toy maker. "Your kids is older an' yet they always pick on young'uns. 'Tis shameful, is what it is. So don't be pointin' fingers at anybody else till you tend t' yer own house, man!"

"Like father like sons," snorted Lady Aria.

Thatcher coughed sharply, embarrassed to be taken to task like that, especially by a lady. "Uh . . . okay, Carver. Maybe I was a bit hasty." He turned to go.

"Sir!" called Aria. "Don't you owe the master spinner an apology for your crude behavior and assumptions?"

Thatcher squirmed, and muttered, "Uh . . . well . . . umm . . . ain't never apologized to no coward . . ."

Aria scowled. "The only coward I see here, sir, is _you_. For a man who cannot admit when he's wrong is surely the worst coward upon the face of the earth."

Thatcher was now the color of a sunset, and he looked at the ground and muttered, "Sorry, Rumple. But you an' that mutt of yourn better stay outta my way, or else!" Then he practically fled up the street, snarling, "Benjamin! Martin! Where are you?"

"Somebody's not gonna be able to sit down for supper tonight," Master Carver said.

"And serves them right too," harrumphed Elspeth.

"Thank you, Lady Aria, for speaking up like that," Rumple said.

"It was nothing, Rumplestiltskin," the girl said softly. "That great lout had it coming, behaving so rudely to a master craftsman like that. I shall go back to our home and tell my friends what wonderful thread and cloth you sell, and perhaps they too might buy your wares."

"You are too kind, milady," Rumple said, bowing.

"Not at all. I look forward to seeing you again, master spinner," the lady said, and she smiled at him and the children before taking her purchases and walking away with Elspeth beside her.

_Now there's a smart girl,_ Arrow whuffed, before going to lie down at the back of the booth. _And if that idiot Perry comes around here again and tries anything, he'll get my teeth in his rump!_

"Just let him alone, Arrow," Rumple told the big wolf. "Biting anyone's a good way to get yourself shot." He turned to Master Carver and said, "Thanks, Tom, for helping me out there."

"No trouble a'tall, Rumple. Perry's allus needin' t' be taken down a peg, the blowhard," said the toymaker, smiling.

The rest of the morning passed by uneventfully, and by the time lunch rolled around, Val and Bae were starving.

Rumple had brought some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with him, as well as what was left of the peach cobbler, and some popcorn they'd made last night. They sat inside the booth and ate their lunch and drank cold lemonade he bought from another vendor. He had also bought a basted meat bone from Marlena Butcher for Arrow, who lay at his feet and gnawed it happily.

They had just finished eating and Rumple was about to take the two children to the outhouse before the afternoon crowd rolled in, when three soldiers on horseback wearing the livery of old duke Ferdinand came riding down the street.

Bae and Val instinctively shrank against Rumple, and the spinner hugged them close as the soldiers halted almost directly in front of their stall. One of them, wearing a chain hauberk and a helmet, pulled a piece of paper from a pocket and bellowed, "Here ye, here ye! By order of Duke Ferdinand, all able bodied persons are to report to the green for muster this Friday! The ogres have been sighted again on the border and all men are called to fight for yer liege lord! Any man not attending to this proclamation shall be thrown in jail or shot for a coward!"

"Do ye shoot already existing cowards?" Perry Thatcher cried. "'Cause there's one over there!" He pointed spitefully at Rumple. "He's already a deserter, whyn't ye shoot him?"

"No!" Bae yelled. "You shut up an' leave my papa alone!"

"Rumple's no coward, you big fat idiot!" Val shrieked, glaring at the other man.

"Hush, dearies!" the spinner ordered, cursing Thatcher's big mouth, for he'd not wanted to draw attention to himself.

But it was too late, for one of the soldiers drew rein beside Rumple's stall and snapped, "Is that so? You a deserter, spinner?"

Before Rumple could answer, Thatcher brayed, "A coward, a deserter, _and_ a cripple whose wife left him!"

"Oh, shut yer pie hole, Perry!" cried Tom Carver. "We all know Milah was cheatin' on him, the brassy wench!"

The soldier drew his sword and pointed it threateningly at Rumple. "I don't care what your wife done, spinner, you be there on Friday or else we'll come and put an arrow in your brain."

"But sir, I can't fight," Rumple protested. "My leg is damaged and I have two children to support. Your proclamation said every _able-bodied_ man."

"You'll get no special consideration from the duke, you miserable coward!" shouted the soldier, starting to poke at the spinner with his sword.

Suddenly there came a throaty snarl and the soldier's horse screamed and reared, backing away.

"Hey! What in hell is _that?_" the soldier cried upon seeing Arrow, who had his head lowered, and all his fangs showing, snarling in a terrible crescendo.

The grimm wolf walked two steps forward, ears flat against his head, growling harshly. _Leave, you stupid iron turtle! Before I bite your leg off! Nobody hurts my wizard!_

"Holy hells! It's a wolf!" yelped his companions, who were also having trouble with their horses, who were panicking at the sight of the huge predator.

"A giant wolf!" gasped the first soldier. "Run for your lives!"

Arrow's snarl rose to a keening pitch, and the horses bolted, petrified by the huge wolf before them, the soldiers unable to prevent them from racing away from him.

Perry Thatcher turned the color of old parchment and started to back away as well, when Arrow turned on him and gave a short sharp howl, as he did when hunting deer in the northern forests, his blue eyes blazing.

The man trembled and backed away, whimpering, "Call 'im off, Rumple! A'fore he eats me!"

_Eat you, you trembling ball of suet?_ sneered the grimm wolf. _You'd give me indigestion! I'd sooner eat carrion! Now get!_ He barked savagely at the thatcher, who took to his heels and fled.

Val and Bae applauded, cheering the big wolf, who glared up the street for a few moments, then turned and trotted back inside the booth to sit next to Rumple.

_That'll teach them to threaten my sorcerer!_ Arrow snorted, and sighed as the children scratched him behind the ears.

"They'll be back," Rumple said gloomily.

_If they do come back, I'll send them running away with their tails between their legs,_ Arrow half-growled.

"It won't do any good," sighed the spinner. "That blasted proclamation is the law and it doesn't matter to them that I can't fight, they'll just drag me off and shoot you in the bargain, Arrow."

"What do we do, Rumple?" asked Val, sniffling. "They can't take you away! We'll be all alone!"

"They can't do that, Papa!" Bae cried, hugging him. "You've already got a bad leg. You'll die if they try and make you fight!"

"I know, dearie," Rumple said, stroking his hair. "But that stupid Perry Thatcher has made me a target, and unless I come up with something they can use in my place, they'll come back and arrest me . . . or worse."

"What can we do?" Val asked again, her green eyes filling with tears.

"I'm not sure," Rumple said quietly. "I'll need to think about it. For now, stay here by me, kids, and help me sell the rest of my thread. We'll worry about the proclamation later."

But though he tried to sound hopeful, there was a cold spot in the pit of his stomach and an icy fist squeezing his heart, warning of danger and sorrow to come.

**A/N: Now what will Rumple do? Thanks guys for reviewing, reading, and all! You're the best!**


	20. Desperate Dealings

**20**

**Desperate Dealings**

When Rumple and his children returned to the cottage late that afternoon, with Arrow padding alongside them, it was with none of the enthusiasm and eagerness they had set out with that morning. Now Bae and Val were pensive and quiet, and Val kept darting fearful glances behind her, as if scared the soldiers would come up behind them and snatch Rumple away in an instant. She buried her hand in Arrow's fur and clutched Amanda Willa with the other hand, her green eyes wide and scared.

Bae too was frightened, and he kept hold of Rumple's hand, as he hadn't done since he was four. He was worried about what the soldiers might do if his papa refused to come with them, and scared that if he did go, he'd leave and never return. He knew, as Val did not, what a terrible threat the ogres were, and how the big monsters had killed half of the duke's army last time they'd clashed. With Rumple's injured leg, how would he have any chance of survival?

Rumple's thoughts too, were bleak. He had two small children to care for, how could he be drafted to fight in a war they'd been losing and winning for as long as he could remember? No one even knew why the ogres kept raiding them, or what had started the conflict in the first place, he thought with a twisted sneer. Rumple rather thought it might be over territory or boundaries, but no one he'd ever asked actually knew the true story of why the ogres fought the humans on their borders. They had been fighting off and on with each other for as long as Rumple had been alive, and before that as well. It was a war without end, and it seemed to him to be nothing save a great waste of time. Fighting to defend oneself was all well and good, but fighting just for the sake of fighting monsters was simply ridiculous.

And he knew that sorties of the duke's men-at-arms and knights often went into ogre country and killed the ogres they encountered there, thus fanning the hatred even more. _It'll never end. Unless someone decides once and for all to make a treaty and end it for good._ Of course, that was as likely as Rumple dancing a jig on the village green.

_And those blithering idiots just expect me to pack up and go off to the front, leaving my two defenseless children alone? What for? So the duke can brag about how many men he threw into his great offensive? When he loses three men for every five, because of poor conditions, poor training, and stupid decisions? Do they really expect me to die gladly for some fat fool who can't even be bothered to get up off his fat ass and fight a war he and his started? Dammit all, I have a life! I have children! There's nothing honorable at all in dying like a dog on an ogre's spear._

He recalled Milah screaming at him one night soon after his return about how he had humiliated her in front of everyone by coming home alive instead of dying so she could be an honorable widow. When he had asked her why she thought it was better to have a dead husband than a live one, she had snapped that at least dead he was useful, but alive he was useless. For awhile, he had actually believed it.

He wasn't sure now if he still did. Except he found that the regard of his two children, and oddly enough, the grimm wolf, was slowly changing his perceptions of his own worth. He had to live, to survive, to protect them. He was all they had.

He wished he knew the best way to do that, however.

Arrow nudged his hand, thrusting his cold nose into his palm. _No harm shall come to your pups as long as I am here, Rumple. Fear not._

"Easy to say, hard to do," he murmured, so low that only the wolf's keen ears could hear him. And he stroked the gray fur. It was a small comfort.

**Page~*~*~*~*~*~Break**

It took three bedtime stories and three lullabies to get Bae to fall asleep. Rumple was relieved one of them succumbed so easily, but Valentina was another story. She clung to him, insisting he stay beside her, and in fact he was glad to do so, but the look of terror in her green eyes tore him to shreds.

"Dearie, you need to sleep," he said, hugging her to him. "I won't leave. I promise."

She shook her head. "But . . . what if _they_ come—the bad people—and they take you away while I'm sleeping? Please . . . don't leave, Rumple. Don't leave me alone . . . like my papa did . . ." Her small fingers clung tenaciously to his shirt, like barnacles upon the bottom of a ship. "I'm afraid . . ."

"Don't be afraid, dearie. They won't be back . . . at least not yet," he said, stroking her hair. "And if they do come here . . . I can make a deal with them . . ." _I hope. But I have to. I cannot leave, I can't break my promise to her. She's had too many promises broken, I won't add to it._

"So they'll leave us alone? Forever?" Her eyes bored into his own, so innocent, so trusting.

"Forever," he nodded, while a part of his mind screamed that he was a liar, for how could he guarantee that? But how could he not say that, when she looked at him so, as if he was a hero, and he had never been looked upon that way by anyone, except Bae, before? He bent and kissed her on the forehead. "Come on, Val. Close your eyes, dearie, and try to sleep."

She shook her head stubbornly. "No. You'll go away."

"I promise I won't," he assured her. "And I always keep my promises, right?"

She nodded slowly. "You're the only one who ever has. 'Cept Mrs. DeLuca." She snuggled against his chest. "Sing me a song, Rumple."

"What song?"

"The one you always do. The pretty girl one."

"All right," he stroked her dark hair as she nestled in his lap, sitting on his bed. He began to sing, soft and low, "_Pretty girl, go to sleep, for the night is dark and deep, pretty girl, go to sleep . . ._"

By the time he reached the final refrain, Val was asleep, but even in sleep she didn't relax the death grip on his shirt. Sighing, he lay down with her, listening to her breathe, unable to sleep himself, as his mind whirled round and round, seeking a solution to this most difficult problem. At last he too slept, though a solution eluded him.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

The mood in the small cottage the next day was subdued and gloomy. The two children ate breakfast and helped do their chores, but they didn't laugh or play like usual. Instead they stuck to Rumple like limpets, as if afraid to let him out of their sight.

He spun with Val practically sitting in his lap, and Bae pressed up against his other side, for both of them refused to go and play like usual. Rumple said nothing, but inwardly he cursed the soldiers up and down for spineless heartless bullies. They had terrified his children, and for what?

It was only when Rachel came by with some pound cake that Rumple managed to get the children to go outside for awhile with Arrow while he had tea with the widow.

"I heard the old duke's soldiers were at market yesterday," Rachel said gravely, as she sipped her tea.

"Aye, they were," Rumple said. "They want me . . . to go with them to fight."

"What?" Rachel stared at him as if he'd grown an extra head. "Be they daft, spinner? They cannae expect ye t'fight, not wi' a lame leg. Sorry, Rumple, but 'tis the truth."

"I know that. I don't want to go any more now than I ever did the first time," he sighed. "Especially not now that I have two little children to look after."

"That alone ought to exempt ye," Rachel insisted.

"Not according to them, thanks to that idiot Perry Thatcher," Rumple snorted.

"The blaggard!" Rachel growled. "What will ye do now?"

"I don't know. I can't leave, Rachel. But they'll come for me if I don't show up, they'll shoot me right in front of my kids, they don't care that I'm all they have. Unless . . . I can find a way to . . . make them leave me be, once and for all."

"But how? Rumple, mayhap ye can . . . write t'that fancy lady ye were talkin' to. Mayhap she can do something, she's a noble, she has power ye don't . . ."

He shook his head. "Rachel, I don't even know if she lives here. She could have been just passing through . . . and I don't have time to go around seeking her . . . the muster's in two days. Today's Wednesday. I have to . . . do something before then."

"Ye could run, Rumple."

"Run where? They'd catch me, and then what? They'd kill me and that would be that. No. I need . . . something. Something to bargain with. I just wish I knew what it was."

"Money allus talks, Rumple."

"I don't have enough. No. There has to be something else. Something they need that I can get for them."

"Like what?"

"Dearie, if I knew I'd be out right now getting whatever it was."

Rachel sighed sadly. "Rumple, ye'd be makin' a deal with the devil, d'ye try dealin' with the likes o'them."

"What choice do I have?" he spread his hands.

She patted his arm. "Be careful, laddie. An' . . . iffen ye need someone t'watch yer littles, ye can bring 'em by t' me."

"Thank you, Rachel. You're a true friend."

She blushed slightly. "I woulda been a'fore now, Rumple, but yer wife . . . she niver wanted me around."

"She was a bloody idiot! I'm sorry I didn't shove her ass out the door a long time ago."

"Aye, well, 'tis past and done with. What matters is now."

"Right. Only that's the problem. But . . . I'll figure it out."

"Just remember, Rumple, all things come wi' a price," the widow told him. "Be sure ye can pay it."

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Rachel's words echoed in his head that night. _I'll pay any price to keep them safe. Any price._ He watched Bae and Val as they slept, tonight was better than last night. But time was not their friend, and it was running out. _It slips through my fingers, like grains of sand. I have to act. I can't just wait and hope for the best. They are heartless, yet I must deal with them as best I can. Every man has his price. I simply have to find out what it is._

He climbed down the ladder and stood in the front room, gazing around at the hearth, his wheel, the rocking chairs, and the huge wolf who lay sprawled between them.

"Arrow, I need to go out for awhile. Only an hour or so at most. I need you to guard the children," he said the grimm wolf.

Arrow looked up at him. _Where is it that you, go, Rumple? You're uneasy. I can smell it on you._

"I go to make a deal with the devil, my friend," he replied heavily.

Arrow growled softly. _Beware, magician. Such deals are always a double-edged sword._

"You think I don't know that? I'm a spinner, not stupid," he snapped. "But I have no choice. It's either make a deal or get dragged off to war. Either way, I lose, but at least my way is better. Now please, watch over the children."

_I will guard them with my life. But hurry home, Rumple. The darkness isn't safe._

He smiled grimly. "I know that. I'll be back soon." Then he picked up his cloak and swirling it about his shoulders, left the cottage.

He made his way down through the sleeping village to _The Mariner's Rest_. He knew it was a favorite haunt of soldiers as well as sailors. He only prayed the two he needed to see were there.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Smoke and the smell of grease and unwashed linens and human beings filled the air of the tavern. Rumple wrinkled his nose, he'd always hated the stench of these places. But he entered the tavern resolutely, determined to see if the soldiers he'd encountered at the market were there.

He saw some people playing dice at one table, others cards at another. A few more were eating and drinking, their faces shiny with grease and froth from ale. He looked from person to person, feeling his hopes wither and die, like flowers from an early frost. They weren't there.

Then he heard a familiar laugh, and he turned to see the two soldiers he'd met on market day sitting in a corner, one was gnawing the rib from a rack of mutton, the other was drinking an ale and laughing at something his companion said.

"Don't be an idiot, Billy. There's no way you could ever get the dagger from that castle. No way at all. It's too well protected."

"And I tell you, Mark, it's not. And the one who gets the dagger of the Dark One can rule the realms."

"Oh, sure. Like that's true."

"Even if it's not, people would pay chests full of gold for it."

"Oh, sure. And they'd slit your throat after."

"Think of all the money we'd make with it."

Rumple limped forward, hope blossoming in his breast. Here was the something he'd been hoping for. "Excuse me, sirs. But I couldn't help wondering . . . isn't there anything I can do to become . . . exempt from the muster?"

The two soldiers looked up at his approach.

"Well, well. If it ain't the crippled coward," sneered one.

"Exemptions cost, coward," said the other, glaring at him.

"I'll pay anything, _do_ anything," Rumple said, trying hard to keep the desperation from his voice. "Just name your price."

"How about . . . you go to King Micah's castle the next kingdom over and get us something," said the soldier on the right.

"What something?" asked Rumple.

"The dagger of the Dark One," answered the second. "That is, if you're not too chicken . . . _coward_!"

His companion roared with laughter and made mocking chicken noises.

Rumple looked at the other solider. "Is he always like that? You might want to take him to see a healer, he sounds like he's having a crazy fit."

"He's fine. The dagger for an exemption, spinner. Do we have a deal?"

Rumple hesitated a fraction of a second. Then he took the other's hand and shook it. "Yes. If I get the dagger for you, you give me an exemption and leave me alone forever."

"Sure we will. But hurry. We don't have all day," said the first soldier.

"Do you have a map?"

The soldier pulled a faded travel map from a pocket. "Look, coward. Here's where you need to go . . ."

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Arrow looked up when Rumple returned, his blue eyes questioning. _Did you find what you were searching for?_

Rumple nodded. "I did. I have to go and steal the dagger of the Dark One for those idiots we met the other day. Then I'll have an exemption from fighting and be left alone here to raise my children in peace."

_Steal the dagger of the Dark One? Are you insane? That's one of the most powerful dark objects in the realms! And you think they're just going to let you get it and hand it over?_ Arrow shook his head, snorting.

"What choice do I have, wolf? It's not like I have too many options here."

_Fine. But I'm coming with you._

"What? No! You need to stay here with Val and Bae," Rumple said.

_No, I need to come with you and prevent you from getting killed, magician. Leave the pups with the female yonder,_ Arrow disagreed.

"With Rachel?" Rumple clarified.

_Yes. Since you deny what you are, you're going to need me to get past whatever lies in wait in that castle. I'm immune to dark spells, remember?_

"I'd prefer it if you stayed here," he argued.

The grimm wolf licked his nose. _Too bad, sorcerer. I go where I will, and you're going to need me._

"_Will_ you stop calling me that?" Rumple scowled.

_Fine, conjurer. I'm still going with you._

The spinner rolled his eyes. "You're stubborner than a six-year-old wanting candy before supper. What if I commanded you to stay here?"

_Command all you want. I'm coming. Someday you'll thank me for this._

"When pigs fly, wolf!"

Arrow yawned, his blue eyes dancing. _You'll see. Goodnight, Rumple._

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

One of the hardest things about leaving, Rumple thought later as he and Arrow were on the road to the next kingdom, had been saying goodbye to Bae and Val. He had tried to explain that he had to go away for a night, to talk to an important person so he didn't have to go fight in the war. Both children were vastly unhappy with him, but he'd already made up his mind, and so he dropped them off at Widow Tyrell's house the next morning, after speaking with Rachel and explaining he needed to talk with the duke and it might take some time to get an audience at the castle.

"I understand. Dinna fash yerself, Rumple. I'll look after yer bairns for ye," she said.

Somewhat relieved, he had gone to say goodbye to them. "Listen, I'll be back before you know it," he said to the two, who gave him woebegone looks. "Now you . . . umm . . . have a good time with Rachel and behave, okay?"

"Okay, Papa," Bae sighed. "How long will you be?"

"I should be back by tomorrow evening, Bae. But just in case I'm not, don't worry. These things take time." He knelt and hugged his son. "Be good. I love you, Bae."

His son's little arms wound about his neck. "Love you too. Be safe."

Rumple turned next to Val. "Val, I promise I'll come home."

She stared at him suspiciously. "I wish you didn't have to go."

"I know. But . . . sometimes we all have to do things we don't want to. Now I'll be back soon, so you just wait here for me." He held out his arms for her.

She ran into them, hugging him so tightly he almost choked. "Come home, Rumple. Don't leave me alone!"

"Never, Valentina. I'll always come back for you," he said. "And I have Arrow with me, he'll make sure I return."

"I'll miss you."

"I know, pretty girl. But once this is done, I can stay home for good," he told her. Then he kissed her cheek. "Now be good for Rachel and bake me some cookies, all right? I love you, Val."

"Love you too," she whispered, and she kissed his cheek in return. "Come back _soon_."

The last glimpse he had of them before he walked away was of them standing on Rachel's porch, waving, Val clutching Amanda Willa, her green eyes filled with tears, and Bae holding her hand, his little face drawn with worry.

It had taken every scrap of courage he possessed to turn and walk away, with the grimm wolf beside him, his small travel pack slung over his shoulder.

Now, as he made his way through the dense brush that choked the trail through the forest, he recalled their small faces, and it brought a faint smile to his lips. His beautiful children. He would find this coveted dagger, and win back his freedom. He would keep his promise to Valentina. He would succeed where everyone else had failed. He was a desperate soul, and to fail would be unthinkable. _But I won't. This is one deal where the devil won't win. I will._


	21. Betrayal

**21**

**Betrayal**

It took several hours of nonstop traveling for Rumple and Arrow to reach the border of the Enchanted Forest and King Micah's kingdom, called Arabesque. By the time he did so, Rumple's leg was throbbing like red-hot irons had been applied to it, and he had to stop and rest.

Arrow whined in concern. _Rumple, are you all right? Your scent . . . how much pain are you in?_ He could smell the acrid odor of intense pain coming off the spinner, and it made him wrinkle his nose and bare his fangs slightly in sympathy.

"I'll be okay. I just need to rest a little," Rumple replied through gritted teeth. "I'm not . . . used to walking so much on it." He wished he were home, so he could apply some warm towels to it soaked in lavender water, but the best he could do was prop it up on his pack and massage it, which alleviated some of the agony.

_This is a fool's errand. You'll only end up hurt, _the grimm wolf growled, pacing around the clearing of their little encampment.

"Maybe so, but without the dagger I'm dead, and I can't risk that. I won't leave Bae and Val orphans," he said determinedly. Then he closed his eyes, breathing slowly, and trying to block out the pain by thinking of soothing things.

_Sleep, my sorcerer. I shall keep watch, _Arrow told him, and took up sentry at the far end of the clearing, all his senses alert for anything trying to follow or to harm them.

Rumple managed to get about two hours of sleep, and when he woke his leg was much improved and dusk had fallen across the land. He ate some travel bread and jerky from his pack and drank some water in his small canteen, then levered himself to his feet with help from his walking staff, a stout length of birch which he had trimmed and filed at both ends, and capped on the bottom with leather. In the middle was a wrapped leather and cotton padded grip for his hand. He had carved his master's mark into the middle of it. The top of the staff was decorated with small strings of beads and pretty feathers that Bae and Val had gathered and given to him. It was rather handsome for a crutch, he thought, and it helped keep him focused on his task, for when he looked at it, he was reminded of his children.

"Arrow?" he called, for he could not see the grimm wolf in the gloom.

_Here, Rumple,_ the grimm wolf sent, appearing out of the trees like a spirit. The big wolf seemed to float across the ground, so light was he on his paws. _I went to hunt and to drink by the stream nearby. Are you rested enough?_

"Yes. Let's be off. The map they lent me says the castle is to the northwest of here," Rumple said, patting his pocket, where the map was folded.

They crossed the border and made their way down a long twisting road which bore the passage of many feet and the ruts of wagons and horseshoes.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

They reached the castle in another forty-five minutes of walking. It loomed upon a large hill like a sentinel, forbidding and impenetrable. Rumple halted, leaning on his staff as he did so. He stared at the fortress in dismay. "How on earth am I going to find the dagger in there? The place is huge, and doubtless has guards everywhere."

Arrow gazed at the castle, then gave a short howl. _Let me scout for you, Rumple. I shall see where the best place for you to enter is, and perhaps learn where the dagger is kept as well._

"And you think you can get in unseen? Arrow, you're a ninety-five pound wolf!"

_And a grimm wolf can mask himself when he chooses, Rumplestiltskin,_ Arrow retorted.

Then the wolf seemed to become one with the shadows, his form blurring and melting even as he spoke to his chosen wizard. In the end, only his blue eyes were visible, and he narrowed them to slits so it was hard to see them as well. _See? No worries. Stay here. I'll be back soon!_ With that, the wolf bounded away, moving over the ground with a swiftness Rumple knew he could never match.

Leaning on his staff, Rumple watched the road and the clouds scudding across the moon, which had risen half-an-hour before.

Another half-an-hour passed before Arrow returned as swiftly as he had gone.

"Did you find a way in?" Rumple hissed.

_I did. It's easy. There are a few guards at the main gate, but then there's a kitchen door and it's not guarded at all. I spoke to a spit dog and he told me that the king is away, and therefore the guards have gotten lax. He said also that the dagger is kept in a glass case upon the wall of the king's study. _

"Did he tell you where this study was?"

_He didn't know much about the upper levels of the castle, so I asked a kitchen cat. At first she spat at me, the temperamental creature, but once I told her I meant her no harm, she told me how to get to the upper floors using a small servant's stair, and said the study was three doors down from it. She said there are so many servants that no one knows everyone, so you shouldn't be remarked on._

"And are there any traps upon the dagger itself?"

Arrow whuffed. _Probably, yes. But I can handle them. Remember what I am._

"You said your kind is immune to dark magic. But what if the dagger isn't guarded by magic at all?"

_That's highly unlikely. But if so, you can figure out a way past the traps, if there are any. You're clever, Rumple. Now let's go. Time's wasting and the night wanes._

Rumple followed the wolf across the grass and around the side of the castle, where a kitchen servant's entrance stood slightly ajar.

Once inside the castle, Rumple took a taper from the wall and lit it in the kitchen hearth, wondering at how hardly any servants were about at all. Then again, it was rather late, but still, he would have expected there to be at least one under cook and some scullery maids and lads still washing up or setting out bread to rise for the morrow. But the kitchen was still, save for the dog sitting beside the spit on the hearth and a cat curled on a chair.

Both animals peered at the strange man and the wolf, but other than that, were quiet.

Rumple quickly limped across the kitchen, following Arrow to the small servant's stair that led to the upper rooms of the castle.

"Where is everyone?" he wondered.

_Asleep, gaming, drinking, wenching, the usual things people do when their leader is not in residence, according to the kitchen cat, _Arrow replied. _They believe themselves safe from any invasion, because King Micah has the dagger, and therefore commands the Dark One._

"I've heard it said that the one who has the dagger can command him," Rumple whispered.

_In a manner of speaking, yes. In a way, the Dark One is bound to the dagger, and the one who holds it holds his life force. Rather like a djinn and his lamp. But there is a price for all things, and it's said the one who would command the Dark One must give up his soul._

Rumple shuddered and he ascended the stairs as quickly as he could. All he cared about was getting the dagger and getting the hell out of there.

In the long hallway, Arrow led his sorcerer down to the third doorway, snarling softly as the stench of dark magic hit his sensitive nostrils.

Rumple frowned. "What's that . . . smell? Like . . . something rotten."

_Faugh! That's the scent of darkness. You smell it too? Then that tells me you're magic sensitive too, spinner. Only a sorcerer can smell the stench of corruption thus,_ the grimm wolf snarled.

"I'm no sorcerer. Maybe they just forgot to clean up in here," Rumple whispered, and opened the door of the study.

The room was not all that large, but it was tastefully appointed, with a large walnut desk, chair, and several shelves with books and scrolls on them, as well as thick red drapes. An obsidian dagger in a glass case hung upon the wall to one side of the desk.

Rumple's heart chilled at the sight.

There it was! The dagger that promised his salvation . . . and that of his children.

Suddenly Arrow pressed against his knees, snarling in a chilling crescendo. The smell of rotting meat and vegetation was much stronger now.

_Back, Rumple! Do you feel it? It's coming awake. It senses another magic wielder._

Now that Arrow mentioned it, Rumple had to admit that he had been feeling cold and uneasy since he'd entered the room, and the chill had intensified. And not only was he feeling like he stood in the center of a windstorm, but there was a feeling of dread accompanying the chill that made him tremble.

"I feel . . . cold . . . like death itself has come to claim me," the spinner hissed.

_That's the aura of dark magic._ The grimm wolf's teeth were bared and all his fur stood up, making him seem twice as large as before. _Can you break the case? Then I can get the dagger._

Rumple looked about, spying a heavy marble paperweight in the shape of a crow upon the desk. He picked it up and threw it hard at the case.

The case shattered, and glass fell everywhere.

Suddenly a disembodied voice shrieked, "Thieves! Thieves! Beware, Micah! Beware!"

"Quick! Get it!" Rumple snapped.

Arrow launched himself at the case and seized the dagger in his teeth. _Ugh! It tastes like dead things!_ Then he wheeled about and bounded out of the room.

Rumple followed, running as quickly as he could, while behind them, the voice continued to shriek about thieves and then he felt something hot streak past him.

Glancing back, he saw several glowing fiery projectiles soar out of the study and towards him. Some landed in the hallway and some caught a tapestry on fire. Soon the tapestry was burning and the hallway filled with smoke.

Rumple coughed and struggled to run down the stair after Arrow, while behind him a fire raged at his back and fiery missiles pelted down around him.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he stumbled out the kitchen door just as someone screamed, "Fire! The castle's on fire!"

Coughing harshly, Rumple limped as quickly as he could after the fleeing grimm wolf, who ran with the grace of a deer across the lawn and into the small woods that bordered the castle proper.

Once among the sheltering trees, Arrow slid to a halt and allowed Rumple to catch up to him. The grimm wolf spat out the dagger upon the ground. _Stinking thing! It'll take me days to get the taste out of my mouth._ Grimacing, Arrow spat into the foliage, his lip curling as if he'd bitten into something sour.

Rumple bent and picked up the dagger.

As he did so, he noticed a name—Zoso—upon the blade.

Arrow spun, growling, _No, Rumple! Drop it! Don't touch it with your bare hands._ The wolf lunged then, and knocked the dagger from his hands.

"What in hell are you doing?" the spinner cried angrily. "I need that to give to those soldiers."

_Touching a cursed object like that skin to skin may cause the evil within it to influence you. Pick it up if you must, but not with your bare hands. It cannot harm me because I'm immune to dark conjuring._

Rumple pulled on a leather glove he had in the pocket of his cloak and then picked up the dagger, putting it in his pocket. Then he rubbed his hand on his pant leg, trying to recall if he'd actually touched the dagger itself with his hand. He didn't think so.

He turned to gaze back at the castle, and saw that flames were now shooting from the windows as the blaze conjured by the stealing of the dagger raged out of control. People were screaming and running out of the castle, and he turned to Arrow and said, "Let's get out of here, before someone sees us."

_Indeed. We must move fast. Climb upon my back, sorcerer. I can run faster than you on my worst day._

"You can't carry me," Rumple objected.

_I most certainly can, though I'm not a horse. Now get on, quickly!_

Rumple sighed and cautiously threw a leg over the wolf's broad back.

Just as he did so, more shouts came from the castle and he heard someone shout, "The dagger! It's gone! We have to find it, quickly! Mount a search party!"

Arrow stiffened. _Hold on, Rumple. Now we run!_

Rumple wound his hand deep into the thick ruff before him and gripped the wolf about the belly, holding his staff in his other hand.

Arrow sprang off into the night, running hard, with the swiftness of the finest racehorse and the agility of a stag through the trees.

Rumple clung to his back, not sure whether to smile or be petrified at the speed they were traveling. He only hoped he didn't fall off the wolf's back, because at the speed they were going, he'd break his damned neck.

And yet . . . and yet . . . a part of him was smirking, as he realized he was running faster than he'd ever been before, faster than even a lord on a fast horse. _Gods, how Bae would love this! And Valentina too!_ In spite of the fact that he felt freezing cold to the marrow of his bones, he couldn't help feeling a bit of awe and wonder as the grimm wolf carried him through the trees and down the road, and finally over the border into the Enchanted Forest.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

After about fifteen minutes, Arrow slowed to a trot, and Rumple stirred on his back. "Arrow, should I get down now?"

The grimm wolf gave a sort of half-bark. _No. Stay. I can carry you much further than this. All the way back to those stupid soldiers._

"But . . . you're not a horse, I don't want you to hurt yourself."

_You're not much heavier than a deer haunch, and I've carried that in my mouth for miles. Stay, Rumple. The faster we find those carrion feeders and get rid of the dagger, the happier I'll be. Ugh! The stench is making my stomach flip over._

Rumple could still smell the faint miasma of rotten things, and he breathed deeply of the fresh night air to combat it.

Arrow trotted steadily through the night, with that classic wolf lope which he could keep up for hours, easily carrying the crippled spinner on his back.

The moon had started to wane and sink towards the horizon when Arrow drew nigh the small camp of the two soldiers, who had agreed to meet Rumple in this spot after the dagger was acquired.

Arrow pricked up his ears as he saw the fire through the trees and heard the soft voices of the two men. The wolf's steps slowed, until he stood just outside the ring of trees surrounding the soldiers' camp.

The two men lounged around a small fire, having pitched a two-man tent and were roasting what looked like sausages on sticks and drinking from small flasks.

"So . . . you think that coward can do what he promised?" asked Mark.

Bill drank some of his flask and turned his sausage before he answered, "Even if he dies, it's no skin off our nose. And if he does somehow pull it off, we can just take the dagger and stab him afterwards."

Rumple froze upon hearing that.

"You'd kill him?" asked Mark.

"Like you wouldn't? He's a deserter and a coward, nobody'd miss him, except maybe his kids. We could always say he was trying to run away again, and we killed him for that."

"And we'd have the dagger. We'd be powerful, more powerful than even the duke, and not his lackeys ever again," crowed Mark.

"_If _ the coward comes back with the dagger," Bill reminded him.

"Uh . . . what if he does and he tries to keep it for himself?"

"We'll kill him then. Either way, he's a dead man."

_Treachery!_ Arrow snarled into his head, his blue eyes blazing. _I ought to bite out their lying tongues!_

"No!" Rumple whispered. "We need to get out of here. Get back to the children. We have to leave, before they start looking for us. They broke their deal, but it won't stop them from trying to kill me. We have to go . . . now!"

Arrow began to trot through the trees again, this time heading towards the twinkling lights of the village, and Rachel's little cottage.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

"Papa! You came back early!" Bae cried, jumping up from the little bed in the alcove beside the stove, dressed in his small nightshirt and socks. It was the same bed his mother had stayed in when she was sick with chicken pox.

He raced across the floor and jumped into Rumple's arms.

Valentina woke sleepily when Bae yelled, and rubbed her eyes. Then she too sprang out of the bed. With Amanda Willa under one arm, she ran across the floor, squealing, "You came home, Rumple! Like in my dream!"

The spinner found himself trying to hug two delighted children all at once.

"Hey! You act like I've been gone a month," he said, smiling. Despite the urgency, he was happy to be with his children again. He hugged Bae with one arm and pulled Val to him with the other, breathing in the scents of honey, soap, and mint as he hugged them close.

Rachel smiled down at the threesome, dressed in her quilted nightgown, robe, and blue slippers. "An' what a fine surprise this is! Yer papa come home early! How'd it go, Rumple?"

"It went . . . as well as can be expected," the spinner replied, not wanting her to know what danger they were in.

Suddenly, Arrow howled sharply. _Rumple, hurry! They could be coming for you even now!_

"Why's Arrow howling?" asked Bae.

"He wants to get home, I guess," said his father.

At the same time Val wrinkled up her small nose and said, "Eww! What's that awful smell? Like garbage rotting?"

Bae sniffed. "I don't smell anything."

"Never mind," Rumple said. "Why don't you two get dressed and get your things together and put them in Val's suitcase?"

The two children released him and ran to do as he'd said.

Rumple stood up, one hand patting the pocket with the dagger within it, as if reassuring himself it was still there. Despite the faint stench, he was nervous about losing it. "Thank you, Rachel, for taking care of them. I'm sorry we can't stay, but . . . I think it best if we . . . leave as soon as possible."

The widow looked at him shrewdly. "Aye, Rumple. Ye do that. An' iffen anybody asks, I ain't seen ye."

The spinner let out his breath in relief. Rachel understood! "I . . . I'm sorry that . . . we have to leave like this . . . it's not . . . what I wanted, but . . ."

She laid a hand on his shoulder. "Ye've been a good neighbor, Rumplestiltskin." Then she sniffed sharply. "Here. Ye may need this where ye're goin'." She went over to the wall and unhooked a small curved bow and a quiver of arrows. "This belonged to ma Bruce. He'd of liked ye to have it. 'Twill keep ye fed . . . an' the riffraff at bay."

"Rachel . . . I can't . . . you might need it . . ."

"Nonsense, Rumple! Ye be needin' it more than an old widow woman like mysel'." She pushed the bow into his hands.

"Thank you," he said, feeling guilt squeeze his heart tight.

"This too," she said, and wrapped a cloth around a loaf of bread and put some sugar cookies into another and tied it tight. To it she added a string of summer smoked sausage. "'Tisn't much, but it'll help."

"Rachel . . ."

"What's some bread an' cookies between friends, huh?" she said gruffly. She shoved them at him.

He blinked away tears of his own then, for he knew it likely they would never see each other again. He carefully packed the food inside Val's blue suitcase, alongside the jar of peanut butter and honey she had brought. "Children, are you ready?"

"Yes!" Bae said, now dressed and pulling on his boots.

"Me too!" Val said, tying her sneakers.

"Say goodbye to Rachel," he told them, unable to keep a note of sadness out of his voice.

Luckily, neither child picked up on it.

Rachel hugged both children tightly and kissed them on the forehead. "Gods bless ye, and be good for yer papa. Farewell now!"

"Bye, Widow Tyrell!" they called as they scampered out the door.

"Goodbye, Rachel. I can never thank you enough for what you've done," Rumple said, holding the suitcase in his hand.

"May the gods bless ye, Rumple, and keep ye safe. I'll allus remember ye, laddie." Then she stepped forward and hugged him hard. "Ye and yer bairns were like kin t' me. Now get, afore those devils come searchin'!"

There were tears in her eyes as she watched him go, joining the two children and Arrow. They made a right turn out of her yard and headed down the lane . . . not towards their home, but into the woods.

Then she went inside and barred the door. Some ten minutes later, she heard the clatter of horse's hooves and the bellows of the soldiers, calling, "Show yourself, coward! You owe us something!"

Shivering, the widow peered out into the night and saw two men on horseback ride down the road towards Rumplestiltskin's cottage. _Run, Rumple! Run far far away where they cannae find ye and yours. And may ye be happy and blessed all yer life._

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

"Nothing!" spat Bill as he kicked over Rumple's wheel inside the empty cottage. "They're gone, Mark!"

"We'll find them," his companion said. "How far can they get, a crippled coward and his two little kids? And when we do, we'll have the dagger and we'll string him up, the cheating beggar!" He knocked over a kitchen chair.

"Aye, and make his beggar brats watch . . . and then we'll gut them too," snarled Bill. He grabbed a stick of wood from beside the hearth and stuck it into the embers of the fire. As it caught, he smashed the oil lamp onto the floor, then threw the fiery brand on top of it.

Laughing, he ran out the door and mounted his horse, as the cottage caught fire and began to burn.

"Come on, Mark! Let's catch us some thieving rats! Yah!" he spurred his horse back onto the road and began to look for tracks, accompanied by his friend, while behind them plumes of smoke rose into the sky as the cottage erupted in flames.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

In the woods several yards away, Rumple and the children walked swiftly down a little used deer trail.

"Where are we going, Rumple?" Val asked as she trotted alongside him.

"Yeah, how come we aren't going home, Papa?" Bae wanted to know.

"Because, dearies, we're moving," he answered, dragging the suitcase along.

"Moving where?" Bae frowned. "How come?"

"Is it 'cause of the bad people?" Val asked, her voice quivering slightly.

"Yes," Rumple sighed. "The bad people . . . they wouldn't make a deal with me and stick to it, so . . . we had to leave. But I'll find us somewhere else to live that's just as nice, dearies. Don't worry. For now, though, I need you to be quiet and follow Arrow as quickly as you can."

Bae looked behind him. "Papa, I smell smoke."

Rumple glanced back and saw a faint plume of smoke in the air. "Just keep walking, Bae. Never mind the smoke. It's probably just a campfire."

Bae wondered who'd camp out here, in the middle of nowhere.

Val wondered why she kept smelling something rotten.

Rumple prayed he had a good enough head start to elude the soldiers.

Arrow flicked an ear backwards, listening hard. He knew that they could not evade pursuit forever, and if it came to it, he would fight those who sought to harm his family. But for now, he trotted forward, his huge paws making no sound upon the forest floor. He wished he could persuade Rumple to get rid of the dagger. It would bring nothing but death and destruction in its wake, as always.

**A/N: Two chapters in one day . . . how's that for a fast update?**


	22. True Courage

**22**

**True Courage**

Arrow led them deeper into the forest, traveling at a rather quick pace for about forty-five minutes, until the two children were panting and Rumple was limping heavily, exhausted. Finally, the grimm wolf stopped in a small culvert next to a trickling stream. He circled it twice before sitting down and saying to Rumple, _It's safe here. You can rest for a few hours. They won't find us in the dark. Humans are blind then._

"Okay, dearies. Arrow says we can rest now, so let's get some sleep," Rumple said. He took his single blanket out of his pack and found a rather comfortable piece of ground without rocks and lay down, with Bae and Val on either side of him, and the blanket spread over them all. They were all so tired that they drifted off immediately, leaving Arrow to keep watch while he dozed in brief snatches.

Dawn came and still the three slept. It wasn't until about seven o'clock, or at least as near as Rumple could figure, that they all woke up. Rumple had the children wash their faces and hands in the little stream and then Bae said, "Papa, I have to go potty."

"Over there, son," he pointed to a convenient tree.

As Bae trotted off to do his business, Val tugged on his sleeve. "Me too, Rumple. But . . . where's the bathroom?" she whimpered, shifting from foot to foot.

"Umm . . . well . . . there isn't one here, so . . . err . . ." the spinner mumbled, thinking _hells, Rumple! She's a girl and that presents a bit of a problem._ Thinking hard, he said, "Come with me, dearie."

He led her to the opposite side of the culvert, behind some burdock, and using a small spade he carried in his pack for digging wild plants, quickly dug a shallow hole. "Okay, Val. Now you can go there."

She stared at him as if he'd turned into a dragon. "On the _ground_? Like . . . a dog? What do I wipe with? There's no paper."

"These," he grabbed a handful of burdock leaves. "And . . . umm . . . you can pretend you're like that little girl you were reading about . . . what's her name . . . Laura . . . the explorer . . ."

"You mean Laura from Little House on the Prairie?"

"Yes. That one," he pressed the leaves into her hand. "Go on. I'll be right here," he walked several steps away and turned around, leaning against a tree.

A few minutes later Val came back to him, looking rather disgusted. "I need to wash my hands. Yuck! I can't wait till we find another house to live in."

"You and me both, dearie," Rumple sighed, walking back to the middle of the culvert with her. Ah, the joys of traveling rough with a little girl, he thought ruefully.

After they'd all washed up, Rumple made them sandwiches of honey and peanut butter with Rachel's bread and they drank water to wash it down. They tossed their crusts to Arrow who gobbled them down and wagged his tail in thanks.

"Did you eat?" asked the spinner.

_Yes. I caught a rabbit earlier. I'm fine,_ the wolf said. _Now let's be off._

They traveled many miles that day, trying to put as much distance as they could between themselves and the village and the soldiers who were hot on their trail. After two hours of walking, a litany of complaints started.

"Papa, I'm tired," Bae whined.

So they paused for about five minutes to rest, and  
then went on.

"Rumple, my feet hurt," Val complained next.

"Let me see," Rumple knelt and had Val untie her sneakers, taking them off and shaking them to get out any small particles of dirt and rocks, then putting them back on and retying them loosely. "Okay, dearie. You're set. Now let's keep going."

A few minutes later Bae said, "Papa, I'm thirsty."

Rumple handed him his canteen, groaning softly.

Then Val chimed in with, "Are we there yet?"

_There? I don't even know where we're going, much less when we'll get there,_ the spinner thought exasperatedly.

"I'm bored."

"Me too."

"This sucks," Bae grumbled.

"Yeah. It's like the worst trip I've ever been on," Val added. "Even worse than the time Miss Hopkins took my class to the zoo and Larry Perkins got locked in the boys bathroom and we were all late for the bus and it left without us."

"How'd he get out?" Bae wanted to know.

"Some guy with a screwdriver came and unscrewed the hinges on the door," Val answered. "But it took forever for him to get there and we were all bored and starving 'cause by then the cafeteria was closed and we couldn't get anything to eat except stale cheese crackers from the vending machine and Myra Smith got sick from eating some and threw up on the floor."

"Yuck!" Bae said.

"Yeah, but at least we didn't have to pee in the woods," Val said, making a face.

Bae just shrugged. "That's not so bad."

"Maybe for _you_," Val retorted. "You're a guy. You've got it easy."

Before the conversation could escalate into a quarrel, Rumple said quickly, "All right, children. Now we're going to play a game."

"What kind of game?" cried Bae.

"The kind where you walk along and look at everything around you and name something you see that starts with a letter," Rumple said. "For instance, A—air," he indicated the air about them.

"Papa, you can't see air," Bae objected.

"Yes, you can," Val argued. "When the wind blows. I'm next. B—bear!"

"Where?" Bae yelped, looking around frantically.

"Fooled you!" she smirked.

"Imp!" Rumple said, pretending to scowl at her. "Name something else, Miss Sly Boots."

"Okay. B—bark. As in tree bark. Your turn, Bae."

"C . . . umm . . . clouds!" He pointed to a bank of them slowly gliding across the sky.

"D . . .dirt," Rumple said, since it was all around them.

They continued naming things until they reached the end of the alphabet, and in doing so had forgotten for awhile about their sore feet and growling stomachs.

Rumple asked Arrow if he heard any sounds of pursuit, and the big wolf ran back to check their back trail. When he returned he said that he couldn't see or hear any signs of the soldiers on horseback, so maybe they'd given up. Rumple was sure they hadn't, but he decided it was safe enough to stop for lunch for a bit.

They all ate the dried summer sausage Rachel had given to them, along with more bread, and the sugar cookies as well.

"Mmm! These sugar cookies are the best!" Bae declared.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," his father reproved. "You'll choke."

"I miss Rachel," Val sighed, looking unhappy, even as she ate a cookie.

"I do too," Rumple said. "Perhaps when we . . . ah, get to our new home, we can write to her and tell her how we are."

"Papa, she can't read," Bae reminded him.

"I know, dearie, but perhaps she can find someone in the village who can read the letter for her. I'm not the only one who knew how."

"I was supposed to go to school this fall," Bae sighed. "Now I can't and how am I gonna learn how?"

"I'll teach you," Rumple said. "As soon as we find somewhere safe to settle down."

"When's that gonna be?" asked Val.

"I have no idea yet, dearie. We'll just have to wait and see."

Val groaned. She was already sick of camping out and hoped those mean soldiers fell in a ditch and broke their legs or got a bad case of poison ivy.

Then he packed up the suitcase and they began walking again, following the grimm wolf.

As they walked, Rumple kept rubbing his hand against the pocket where the dagger was kept. It was odd, but he needed to touch it, almost like scratching a n itch. He peered at his hand, recalling Arrow's warning, but his hand looked normal, and he was sure it had only touched the hilt, not the obsidian blade itself. So he shouldn't be tainted or influenced by the dark magic.

Yet as he walked he found himself falling into despair, as he considered that they might not be able to elude pursuit forever, and once word got out that the dagger was stolen, everyone from Micah's kingdom would be looking for it . . . and whoever stole it. He felt as if he had a great big target on his back labeled 'Shoot Me'. He began glancing uneasily behind him every few feet, as if expecting soldiers to come storming up the road an instant later.

With every minute that passed, he found himself growing more agitated and irritable, and when Bae asked to stop for a bit of a rest, he found himself snapping at his son. "Be quiet!"

"Sorry," Bae apologized, staring at him in shock.

Val sniffled, the sharp tone scaring her, and she clutched her doll to her and whimpered.

The noise set Rumple's teeth on edge and he glared down at his daughter. "You be quiet too!"

Val shrank from him and started bawling.

"Papa, why're you yelling at her?" Bae cried, and went to hug her. "It's okay, Val. He didn't mean to."

An instant later, the gloomy irritated mood left him. Rumple blinked hard, and only then realized what he had done. Recalling how he snapped at both children moments ago made him feel ashamed and wretched. "I'm sorry. I was just . . . I don't know what's the matter with me. I'm sorry. Please, Val, stop crying. I'm not mad at you. Please."

He knelt and took both children in his arms.

Bae hugged him and whispered, "It's okay, Papa. I know you didn't mean to. But you scared Val."

"Valentina, my pretty girl, please don't cry. I won't hurt you. I didn't mean to scare you. I just . . . was in a rotten mood and . . . well, I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. I was just afraid the . . . bad people might hear you . . . and I . . . you know I'd never hurt you, right? Even when I snap at you like that, I'd never hit you. I'm sorry, Val. I'm sorry."

Abruptly, the little girl stopped hugging Bae and then transferred her hold to Rumple, hugging him hard. "You scared me," she whispered. "I thought . . . you were turning mean like . . . my old papa."

"Gods forbid!" he muttered, hugging her tight. "I'm so sorry." The guilt was like a mountain upon his chest, smothering him beneath it. This fragile child trusted him and he had nearly betrayed that trust. He felt like a monster, the worst liar in the realms. "Do you . . . can you . . . forgive me?"

She nodded against his shoulder. "Of course. I love you," she said simply.

Her simple benediction eased some of the terrible guilt and he whispered a heartfelt, "Thank you, sweetheart."

After several long moments, he released both children and stood up, leaning heavily upon the staff, feeling suddenly weary. This running away was wearing upon him, he felt like a hunted animal, and he hated it. It brought all of his insecurities and fears to the forefront and caused him to behave totally unlike his normal self.

He limped up to where Arrow trotted ahead of them and said, "I cannot believe I just . . . yelled at her like that. I know better. I know what she's been through and yet . . . still I did it. It's not like me, Arrow. I'm all confused . . . I feel as though I'm lost . . . lost in the dark . . .scared and alone . . . like I've become a stranger . . . a monster . . . even to myself . . .. what's happening to me?"

The grimm wolf turned abruptly and stood up on his hind legs, putting his paws on Rumple shoulders and licking his face with his sticky long tongue. _You're not a monster, Rumple. I would never bond with such. These . . . feelings you're experiencing . . . they aren't yours . . . it's the dagger doing this. It's an object of great darkness, and it seeks to consume you. Don't let it. Get rid of it while you still can . . . before it corrupts you._

"But . . . you said it would only do that if I touched it. I didn't!"

_But it's affecting you nevertheless, making you angry, making you full of hatred. Understand, it's been centuries with this curse, and it has taken a life of its own, Rumplestiltskin. It seeks to possess your soul—for innocence is the best meat to such ancient darkness. And your soul, Rumple . . . so innocent, so pure, so gentle, so filled with magic . . .. it would gain a prize beyond price did it succeed._

Rumple's face twisted in revulsion. "No! What can I do?"

_Get rid of it as soon as you can._

"Where? I can't just . . . leave it lying around for anyone to pick up. It's too dangerous."

_True. Might I suggest . . . letting me carry it for awhile? Its influence over me is nothing, because of what I am. It cannot whisper seduction into my ears, nor poison my spirit as it does yours. Let me bear this burden for you, Rumple, as your truest friend and familiar._

Rumple hesitated, then nodded. He pulled on a glove and then reached into his pocket for the dagger.

As his hand closed over the hilt, he felt a sudden wash of anger and hate surge through him. He gasped, for he had never felt such emotions like this, so primal, so vicious, so unlike anything he'd ever felt before. They seared through him like a branding iron.

_Use me! I am your destiny! Use me! We are one! Use me! Take me up and become more powerful than your wildest dreams! You will be a coward no more when you use me!_

The terrible voice echoed like honeyed poison in his ears, and he shook his head mutely. _No! No! I don't want power, not for that price! Arrow . . . help me!_

The grimm wolf snarled. _Get out of his head, old serpent! He is not for you, now or ever! Leave him be! Rumple, give me the dagger! Now!_

Rumple struggled to unclench his fist from the hilt. "I'm . . . trying! It . . . doesn't . . . want . . . me to let . . . go."

Sweat stood out on his forehead as he fought against the insidious hold the dagger had upon him.

_Fight it, Rumple! With all that you are . . . don't let it win!_ Arrow urged. _For the sake of your soul, Rumplestiltskin, for the sake of your children, fight!_

Rumple closed his eyes, conjuring images of Baelfire, of Valentina, even of Rachel, his first real friend besides Arrow. All of them saw something good in him, something besides the coward deserter, something worthy. Now he had to see it within himself. Or else the dagger would claim him.

_Use me. I am power. I am all you shall ever need. Use me, and become the most feared wizard in all the realms. You know you want to._

"No!" he growled. "No . . . I . . . _don't!_ Now let me go, you perverted thing!" He managed to release a finger from about the hilt.

It was like trying to move a mountain with his fingernails.

He feared he couldn't do it.

Then Arrow spoke into his mind. _Don't be afraid, Rumple. Defy it! I am with you, my sorcerer. You don't need its false promises and lies. You are powerful enough on your own. Remember, I believe in you. Bae believes in you. And Val believes in you. Your compassion and love is your greatest strength. You saved a little girl from her nightmare life. Don't let this . . . thing . . . betray all you stand for. You are a good man, Rumplestiltskin. Now prove it!_

Panting, Rumple unclenched a second finger. _Baelfire. Valentina. My sweet children. You depend upon me. Baelfire. Valentina. I cannot . . . betray . . . your trust . . ._

With a soft cry, he made his fingers loosen upon the hilt, and the dagger fell to the ground. "Take it, Arrow!"

Arrow bounded over and picked up the dagger in his teeth. His blue eyes gleamed in triumph. _I knew you'd do it! My brave sorcerer!_

"Me? Brave?" he said, then laughed in disbelief. "Look at me, wolf. I'm shaking like a leaf and terrified to the marrow of my bones." He examined his hand, which was reddened as if he'd thrust it into a fire. It hurt, but it was a good hurt, like a wound that had been lanced and disinfected.

_But you fought despite it. That is true courage, Rumple, and no one is braver than one who does what you just did._

Rumple felt a slow spark of pride build in his chest. He, Rumplestilskin, had actually beaten the dark dagger. "Are you sure you'll be okay?"

_This thing tastes foul, but I'll be fine. Better I carry it than you. Now, let us be off. Those fools are getting closer every moment._

Arrow turned and trotted through the trees, and Rumple, now feeling much lighter, followed along with Val and Bae, who had stopped a little behind him to examine a purple crocus and a spider spinning a web.

They soon caught up with him and skipped alongside of him, their earlier disagreement forgotten.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

About an hour after Arrow started carrying the dagger, they heard the sound of hoofbeats coming along the trail. Arrow whuffed sharply in warning. _Ware, Rumple! They come for us!_

"Children, get behind me!" Rumple yelled, and spun about to face the two soldiers who had doublecrossed him.

"Coward, we finally found ya!" sneered Mark.

"And now you'll give us what you promised, or we'll spill your guts all over the ground," Bill snarled, drawing his sword. "Where's the dagger, coward?"

"Why should I tell you . . . you'll only murder me and then take it anyway," Rumple blustered, standing in front of Val and Bae, leaning on his staff. "It was you who betrayed me."

"Liar! We know you have it, now hand it over!" Bill ordered. "And maybe we won't kill you."

Then Mark spotted Arrow, still holding the dagger in his teeth. "Bill! The damn wolf has it!"

"Huh?" Bill stared, then cried, "You miserable mutt! C'mere!" He spurred his horse at the big wolf, knocking Rumple sprawling as he did so.

Val screamed and Bae grabbed her and dragged her out of the way of the horse before it trampled her.

The horse shrieked, frightened of the big wolf, and reared, fighting his rider.

Bill swore and spurred the creature cruelly.

Arrow sprang up and over them, in one magnificent leap, and landed on the ground. He danced around the other soldier, taunting him, his teeth half bared, still holding the dagger between them.

Mark's horse shivered and reared too, eager to be away from this huge predator. Angrily, the soldier kicked his mount and then tried to shoot the grimm wolf with his bow.

"No! Don't hurt Arrow!" Bae screamed. "Papa, help him! Don't let them kill him!"

Rumple tried to get to his feet, but he was hurting and his leg was like a block of wood beneath him. As he planted his good leg on the ground and tried to get up, Bill rode past him again and shoved him hard, jeering.

"Cripple, stay on the ground where you belong!"

"You leave my Rumple alone, you big fat . . . bastard!" Val screamed, clenching her small fists.

_Great! My six-year-old can swear like a sailor!_ Rumple groaned mentally. Then he struggled once more to his feet.

As he did so, Bill turned and snarled, "Hey, missy! You watch that mouth of yourn, before I cut out your tongue!" he sprang down from his horse, his sword out, ready to attack the helpless Val and Bae.

"No! Not my children!" Rumple howled. He put out a hand . . . a futile gesture.

But then something happened.

Something hot and wild surged through him like a spring flood . . . and it flowed from his hand and slammed into the soldier menacing his children.

And Bill was knocked flying like a poleaxed steer. Down he tumbled upon the forest floor, measuring his length in the dirt.

Just as Amanda Willa leaped from Val's arms and began to glow with purple light.

The doll stalked forward, and let out a yell like an Amazon warrior, and then it grabbed a stick and began beating Bill about the shoulders.

"Ow!Ow!" the soldier yelped, horrified. "Mark! The doll's possessed! By demons!"

He tried to hit the doll with his sword and get to his feet at the same time, but Amanda Willa was too quick, ducking under the soldier's sword and whacking his knees and chest with her stick.

"Oww! Oww!" Bill rolled away from her, only to have Amanda Willa give another yell and jump on top of his back, whaling away with her stick on any part of him she could reach—back, bottom, shoulders, head.

Mark's horse, unable to stand being tormented by a huge wolf and listening to Bill's screams as well as the doll's piercing yells, bucked Mark off and ran headlong back down the trail.

Mark found himself sitting on the ground, rubbing his head, and watching his friend shrieking like a little boy as the doll attacked him. "Holy hells! You're getting your ass kicked by a _doll?_"

"Shut up and help me, you stupid lout!" Bill cried, scrambling to his feet. "Get that damn wolf or kill the kid or something!"

Mark reached for a knife, and threw it at Arrow.

But Arrow saw and glided away and the knife stuck in the dirt.

Then the soldier drew a second knife and snarled, "Here's one in the eye for ya, coward!"

It flew towards Rumple, spinning end over end.

Arrow jumped into him, knocking the spinner down.

The knife embedded itself in the tree where Rumple had been standing.

"Val! We gotta get out of here!" Bae said to the little girl. "Can you open a door out of here?"

"I don't know!" she cried, her face ghost white. "I only did it once before."

"So do it again," Bae urged. "Otherwise they'll kill all of us."

Val gazed at Rumple, on the ground with Arrow on top of him, and the soldier with the evil grin staring at them. She was terrified, but she knew Bae was right. They needed to get away from here, to somewhere safe.

And only she could bring them there.

She grabbed Bae's hand, and then ran over to Rumple, and grabbed his hand too. "Rumple! I'm gonna try to get outta here."

"Do it, dearie!" he gasped. "Now's the time!"

She closed her eyes. _I wish . . . I wish . . . we were somewhere safe, where they'd never ever find us. . . _

A glowing purple and green portal spawned right beneath their feet, summoned by her nascent power.

They tumbled into it, and Val cried, "Amanda Willa!"

The doll suddenly flew across the space between them and into her arms.

Just as the portal snapped shut, leaving the battered and astonished soldiers alone in the forest.

"Huh? Where'd they go?" muttered Mark, scratching his head.

"Into a portal, you idiot!" Bill snapped. "Now we have nothing! You stupid oaf!"

He began to beat Mark with the flat of his sword, chasing the hapless man all over the clearing.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

_Somewhere far away:_

Bae, Rumple, Arrow, and Val appeared out of the portal and landed on the ground in front of a cozy log cabin with a stone chimney somewhere far from the Enchanted Forest.

"Hey! Where are we?" Bae asked, picking himself up and staring at the cabin. "Whose house is that?"

"Uh . . . I think it's Mrs. DeLuca's cabin," Val said uncertainly. "In upstate New York somewhere. I . . . I was thinking about it when . . . when I made the door. So I guess . . . that's where it took us."

"You mean we're in your kingdom?" Bae repeated. "This is New York?"

Val nodded. "But not Manhattan, where I used to live. Outside it. In the . . . country."

Arrow sprang off Rumple and the spinner groaned as he climbed to his feet. "I think . . . we ought to go inside and rest. I feel . . . like a huge wolf sat on me."

_Hey! I saved your life, sorcerer, and that's how you thank me?_

Rumple shook his head. "I'll thank you later, Arrow. For now, let's see about getting inside where it's warm. It's freezing here."

"Mrs. DeLuca said it's always colder here in the mountains," Val said. She started toward the cabin's front door.

Bae trotted after her, dragging the blue suitcase.

Arrow shook himself and spat out the dagger on the ground. He wrinkled his nose and worked his jaws. _Ugh! All I can taste is cold iron. Disgusting! I need a drink before I pick that up again._

"Leave it for now," Rumple said. "It's not like anyone is around to touch it here. This place looks deserted." He limped towards the cabin as well, and Arrow trotted alongside, hoping to get a drink soon, as his throat and tongue felt coated with slime.

But it was strange, the grimm wolf mused, that as soon as the portal had brought them here, the dagger had . . . changed, becoming quiet . . . almost as if . . . it had been silenced. Perhaps it had. The wolf could feel the magic in this land, in the earth . . . and it was . . . different from that of his homeland. Not as strong . . . or rather . . . harder to sense . . . still there, but . . . different.

Val rattled the doorknob. "Rats! It's locked!"

"Let me try, dearie," Rumple said, and put his hand on the doorknob. "Dammit! We need to get inside!" he snarled. "After all we went through, I'm not going to let a stupid locked door stop me. Open!"

Again, something electric and hot flowed through him.

And the door sprang open.

"Papa, you did it!" Bae cheered.

Rumple stared down at his hand. "I . . . guess I did. But how?"

"You did it with wish magic . . . just like me," Val said.

_For the second time today,_ Arrow proclaimed. _See? I told you, Rumple, that you were a sorcerer. Now do you believe me?_

But Rumple had already opened the door and gone inside, leaving Arrow standing on the porch.

The grimm wolf rolled his eyes and padded inside. _Selene grant me patience! Bloody sorcerers!_

**A/N: Okay, now who thought Rumple's fight with the dagger was cool? And I was laughing as I wrote the part with Amanda Willa attacking Bill. "Holy hells! You're getting your ass kicked by a doll!" Who was surprised at the end of this chapter? **

**Thanks so much for all your kind reviews and everything! So glad you all like this story! **


	23. Arrow's Lesson

**23**

**Arrow's Lesson**

"So this is how people in New York live?" Bae asked Val as they entered the cabin.

"Not really. When I was in the city, I lived in an apartment. But this is upstate New York, in the mountains," Val said. She went and found the light switch and turned it on.

Suddenly the room was flooded with light and Bae jumped. "Wow! What'd you do?"

"I turned on the lights."

"How? You didn't light anything."

"With this," she showed him the light switch.

"Is that like magic or something?"

"No, silly! It's electricity," Val giggled.

"Let me try," Bae said, and then he turned the lights off.

"I think we need to find some candles," Rumple said as he came in the door.

"No we don't, Papa!" Bae said excitedly. "Watch this!" He flipped the light switch on.

Rumple stared at the room, which was now lit brighter than day. "How . . . is this possible?"

"Val said it's something called 'lectricity," his son said. He flipped the switch off.

Rumple turned to Val. "And how's this work, dearie? Magic?"

"Nope. Light bulbs," Val announced. "They're like little globes and when you put them in places, they light when you turn the switch. See?" She flipped the switch on.

Rumple squinted and said, "Those things up there are light bulbs?"

"Yup. Powered by electricity."

"Hmm. Okay, but we need to start a fire here, it's freezing," Rumple said, and limped over to the fireplace, which was on one side of the room.

The cabin wasn't too large, but it was a nice size, with solid log walls and wooden floors and a green suede sectional sofa, walnut coffee table with half-finished puzzle on it, and two smaller tables with deer lamps on them. There was a basket with some blue and white yarn and knitting needles beside one of the tables and a rack with some magazines as well. In addition to the fireplace was a large screen TV.

"Yes! TV!" Val shouted happily.

"What's that? It looks like a box," Bae stared at it.

"Wait'll you see this," Val grinned, and she grabbed the remote and pushed a few buttons. "I hope they get cable here. Then we can watch Cartoon Network and stuff."

When the TV came on, with a commercial about Cocoa Krispies, Bae nearly fell over. "Cool! Magic people! How'd they get in there, Val?" He ran over to the TV to examine it.

"They're not in there, Bae," Val said, laughing. "TV's like . . . umm a picture that moves and talks. And it's not always real."

"It's not?"

"No. Sometimes stuff's made up, like in storybooks, and only sometimes it's real, like when you watch the news."

"Is it like a play?" asked Rumple, now halting in his attempts to make a fire and staring at the TV set.

"Umm . . . yeah, there's actors but they film it with a camera," Val said. "I don't know how, it's complicated. But people watch it all the time over here. You can learn lots of things by doing that. I learned how to count in Spanish by watching Sesame Street."

"What's Spanish?" asked Rumple.

"Another language," Val answered.

"And there's no people inside?" Bae sounded almost disappointed.

"Nope. Let's watch cartoons," Val said. "See, here's how you change the channels . . ."

As Val showed Bae how to use the remote and change channels on the mysterious box, Rumple began trying again to start a fire in the fireplace so they could warm up. He found that they had plenty of wood and some odd pieces of black and white paper as well, but no coals were lit and there appeared to be nothing to generate a spark with.

"Dammit!" he swore softly. "Now what?"

He glared at the wood and crumpled pieces of paper, frustrated. He felt a vein in his temple start to throb and then there was an odd pressure behind his eyes and all of a sudden the wood and paper caught fire and began to burn steadily.

Rumple nearly fell on the floor in shock. "What? How?"

_Now that was magic, sorcerer,_ Arrow interjected, padding over to him, his blue eyes glittering in the glow of the fire. _Third time's the charm, yes? Now do you believe me?_

Rumple rubbed his forehead. "I . . . but I . . .never . . . why now and not before?" He was so confused! How could he have magic?

_Because you never believed before. And because sometimes great need calls forth great power, like it did when the soldier attacked your pups. Your magic started to awaken long before that, though. It's why I came to you. And though in this land it's different, magic is still usable here, though it probably works differently than in our realm, where it's more plentiful._

"And the dagger? What about that?" Rumple asked quietly.

_Its influence here is . . . muted, I guess you can say,_ Arrow told him. _But it's still dangerous, Rumple. We need to destroy it._

"Yes, but I'll worry about that later. For now we need some food, something to drink, and I'm just about falling asleep on my feet," the spinner said, yawning.

He left the two children sitting on the couch watching TV while he went into the kitchen and started looking through the cabinets.

He found a bowl and discovered that by pulling on a shiny handle, water came squirting out into a broad shiny basin. Amazed, he just stared at the water flowing, like a stream, until Arrow nudged his hand, and he filled the bowl with water and put it down so the wolf could drink.

Experimentally, he found a mug on the side of some black device and filled it with water, tasting it. It tasted quite good, and it was very cold.

After turning off the faucet, Rumple explored the rest of the downstairs, finding a bathroom done in teal and cream with a most remarkable commode. Puzzled, he pressed the small handle on it, expecting water to come out somewhere, and instead there was an odd noise and the water _disappeared_ from the bowl.

Fearing he'd broken something, Rumple backed away, only to see the water returning. "What sort of magic is this?" he wondered, then shrugged and examined the rest of the place.

There was a large pantry with bunches of canned goods and things in colorful boxes and more plastic containers like the ones Val had brought to them the first time she'd visited. Rumple read the labels on some of them, finding they held familiar things, like canned vegetables and fruit and some unfamiliar things also like Progresso Italian Wedding Soup and White Clam sauce.

Yawning, he figured he could ask Val about these things later, and he found a small closet with some fishing tackle and something that looked like a pole, a pair of men's boots, and some blankets and pillows.

Taking a blanket and a pillow from there, he glanced up the stairs, which seemed to have a loft like his cottage, but a much larger one. He debated going to see, then decided that could wait as well. He was so tired and his body ached like crazy after being knocked on the ground three times.

He limped into the room where the fire was now crackling merrily and lay down on the green couch, after tugging off his boots and pulling the yellow blanket over him and tucking the pillow beneath his head. In moments, his eyes closed and he slept.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

The first few days they spent in the cabin were a revelation to Bae and Rumple. Val had to explain everything to them, from using the dishwasher and the microwave, the oven and the stove (both of which she wasn't allowed to touch after Rumple learned how to operate them), and the washing machine and dryer. Bae was fascinated with the lights, and turned them on and off a few times a day. He was also fascinated with the toilet, and wanted to know where the water went when they flushed it.

"I dunno. Somewhere like the sewer, where there's alligators," Val replied.

"Alligators?"

"Yeah, you know. Big reptiles with huge mouths and teeth as long as your arm."

"A monster? Does it eat people?" Bae wanted to know.

"If it can catch 'em, but they don't live around here. They live in Florida, down south."

"Oh. I ain't never going there," Bae said.

"We can watch Animal Planet and learn about them," Val said. "On TV."

"I like TV," Bae said. Then he flushed the toilet again, just to watch the water swirling.

"Baelfire! Quit doing that!" ordered Rumple from the kitchen. He was trying to figure out how to use the toaster and toast a Pop Tart. "You might make the water run out and then what?"

"It always comes back," Bae objected.

"Come out of there," Rumple ordered. "You don't play in the bathroom."

"Aww!" the little boy groaned and then walked out.

"Val, how do you use this thing?" Rumple asked her.

"It's a toaster," she explained, and showed him how to put a Pop Tart in it and change the dial so it didn't toast too much and then push the lever down.

As Rumple watched in fascination, he thought about how this land seemed to have many things his own didn't, all of them powered by this electricity Val had told him about.

But the other revelation was his own magic.

Arrow had told him that he had been born with magic's gift, but it had been late showing itself. _Almost like it's been suppressed by you. Was there ever a time before this that you remember . . . doing things . . . like making something come to you without touching it, or dreaming of something that happened, or lighting a candle?_

"No. Except . . . maybe once . . . when I was very little . . . I remember . . . I was sick with a fever and I . . . wanted a drink . . . but I couldn't reach the table where a cup of water was and my mother was busy, so I . . . wished it down and it came to me . . . and then . . . I remember my father . . . for some reason he was angry and he picked me up and shook me, and told me never to do that again and I was afraid and started to cry and he whacked me one and snapped at my mother . . . you see, Alanna, what comes of your family's witch blood? I won't have it . . . no son of mine will become a warlock . . .y'hear me, boy? No magic!" Rumple blinked sharply. "And then he . . . told me he'd beat me senseless if I ever did anything like that again. I . . . can't believe I remembered that. It was so long ago. My parents died when I was three and I was raised by my aunt, my father's widowed sister, who spun."

_And so you suppressed your magic,_ Arrow said quietly. _But suppressed doesn't mean gone, and now that it's come awake, you need to learn how to control it._

"Can you teach me?"

_I know very little about how to use magic, as I can only do a few things with it, but I shall try and instruct you as much as I can. You should get a proper teacher though._

"I doubt I could afford one," Rumple sighed. "But for now, I'll have to muddle through as best I can, until we go back to the Enchanted Forest."

They had decided to hide out here in the cabin for about two months, and then go back and find a new place to live, somewhere the duke's men didn't come and no one knew about Rumplestiltskin, coward and deserter. Like another kingdom. Val had said that the DeLucas were most likely still in Manhattan, since Mr. DeLuca was still recovering from his accident and in the hospital, so they wouldn't be back up here for a long time.

_All right. Listen then. These are things I was told by my mother, and she by hers, all the way back to the First Ancestor. You know that magic is a force, like the sunlight, the rain, the wind. It runs through all things—the land, people, animals, plants. Each thing has a touch of magic inside it. A magician can sense, see, and use magical energy, and manipulate it according to need and will. My mother always said the more a magician believed in himself and his power, the greater the magic he could do. _

"But isn't the magic limited by the magician? By that I mean, aren't there some more powerful than others?" Rumple queried.

_Yes. Some are born with a greater ability to sense and manipulate the gift, but the real power lies in belief and imagination, focus, and will. With that, a magician can do almost anything. Except for bringing back the dead. That is forbidden, because it breaks the Balance of the world, and every sorcerer who had tried has either failed and gone mad or failed and killed themselve_s. _For all magic comes with a price, Rumple. Some great, some small, but any use of magic must be paid for._

Rumple nodded. That made sense. Nothing was ever free, and all things had a cost, unless they were gifts. "Paid for how?"

_It varies, according to the spell. Most spells demand a price from the caster, usually of energy in exchange for the magic wielded. Though sometimes, there is a greater price, and with the greatest spells, the price could be a life—yours or someone else's—though only a dark wizard would take another's life when a life price is required, unless the person is a willing sacrifice. But such a price is required only for the Great Magics. Sometimes the price could be a thing, like a hair, blood, crushed herbs, it all depends on the caster and what he's trying to do. I wish I had a spellbook to show you. Such would tell you more about the price of magic._

"But there is light and dark magic, right?"

_Yes, but . . . light and dark are terms humans use to define what magic does, or the effect it has. Magic itself . . . simply is. Like the wind and rain, magic is itself neither bad nor good, it's how it's used by the caster that determines good and evil. For instance, that dagger is an object of evil, used to trap innocent souls and turn them into dark beasts. That is how it has been used for centuries. But in the beginning, the dagger was just a dagger, and that was all. A tool, nothing more, until a dark magician placed a curse upon it. The dagger itself is not dangerous, until someone picks it up and stabs someone with it. Even so, if used to defend yourself, it still is a tool for good. Do you see?_

"Yes. A magician has a choice when he or she uses magic. The choice to use it to help or harm."

_Yes. And that choice determines whether the magic is good or bad. And there is this as well. The strongest magic of all is True Love. True Love breaks all curses, no matter what, or who cast them. Every time. No exceptions._

"But you can't bring back the dead."

_No. Unless you wish the Balance shattered and death to walk among the living,_ the grimm wolf shuddered. _Necromancy is abomination, Rumple._

"And if you find a magician practicing it?"

_I shall kill them. A necromancer threatens all who live, and all who die, by upsetting the Balance, and turning the natural order of things awry. To them, I show no mercy, for they know well the cost of disrupting the Balance, and they care not, save to further their own need for power. No form of dark magic is so evil as that, and it goes against all my people stand for. Not even compulsion spells are as bad._

"Compulsion spells?"

_Like the curse upon the dagger. A compulsion spell or enchantment is a magic which alters a subject's free will and compels them to do or act in a manner contrary to what they would normally do. The dagger brings out all the baser emotions in one who touches it, as it did you. Prolonged exposure would result in the dagger possessing you, and making you choose violence and hatred as a means to an end, and corrupting you. That is why I say we need to destroy it._

"How do you do that?"

_That is the part I'm having difficulty with. For an object so cursed . . . it's hard to make sure it's utterly destroyed . . . or placed somewhere no one can use it ever again,_ Arrow said softly.

"Maybe we should just throw it off the top of a mountain. Or bury it somewhere," Rumple suggested.

_Perhaps. Since you stole it, it is now your responsibility to get rid of it._

"Hey, you helped, remember?"

_Don't think I forgot. I know full well that I bear my share of responsibility for it. You're not the only one who has trouble sleeping at night, _the grimm wolf returned with a soft growl.

For Rumple and Val had begun to have nightmares, even though they were safe from the soldiers in this new land of New York. Rumple sometimes woke with his heart racing, dreaming of holding the dagger in his hand, and the name upon it was not Zoso, but his own. And he was somehow changed . . . become a monster with golden skin and red eyes and a high pitched laugh . . . a terrifying transformation from his normal self.

Val too woke shrieking of a night, babbling about golden skinned Beasts and soldiers killing Bae and Rumple, shooting Arrow, and then stabbing her with the dagger and making her into a monster. "I had red eyes and green skin, Rumple!" she woke one night sobbing, waking him from a sound sleep. "Like the Wicked Witch of the West! And . . . I killed people!"

The dreams had been coming with more and more frequency, and the little girl was so disturbed and upset that she almost refused to sleep at night. Rumple had to leave a light on in her room, and she had taken to wetting the bed again in her anxiety, so he used several towels to line the bed with underneath the sheets. Such an incident was usually followed by bouts of hysterical crying and apologies, though he never yelled at her for it, and it took an hour to calm her down afterwards, and usually he ended up having her sleep with him in the large bedroom next to Bae's, for there were three bedrooms upstairs besides the loft.

One of his greatest tools in soothing the distraught child was Amanda Willa, Val seemed to derive great comfort from hugging the doll, which Arrow had told Rumple was enchanted by him, all unknowing when he had made her for Valentina. The magic had known he'd wanted to protect and comfort the little girl, and so it had followed his wish and the doll had become enchanted to do just that.

"How do you know it wasn't her who enchanted it?"

_Because I know she's not strong enough to do so yet. But you are. I can tell from the aura you display . . . and there is a strong scent of baking bread and rowan from the doll when I smell it._

"Baking bread and rowan? I put lavender in it!" Rumple objected.

_Yes, and I smell that as well. But rowan is a powerful protective wood, which is why such enchantments of protection smell of it, and the baking bread suggests home and comfort, which is why I can smell it as well._

"I didn't know magic had odors."

_To nose blind humans, no. To me and mine, yes it does._

"And yet . . . when I first encountered the dagger of the Dark One, I smelled something rotten."

_Because that object is so old and steeped in darkness that even a human can smell the stench of corruption,_ Arrow replied.

"You've been having bad dreams too?" he asked the wolf.

Arrow flicked an ear. _Mostly because you are. Since we are bonded, sometimes your distress or emotional state resonates with me. It's the price of the bond. I can feel you and you can feel me. Perfectly normal for a familiar and his sorcerer._

"So if . . . something happened to me, you would know? Like if I died?"

_Oh, yes. And if you died . . . I might well die too, of grief and shock. It's happened before._

Rumple stared at the gray wolf in shock. "Even if there was nothing wrong with you? You'd die?"

_But there would be something wrong with me, magician. I would have lost my other self, and you cannot live long with a broken heart. Such is the price of the bond._

"You . . . knew this when you bonded with me?"

_Of course. All of us know it._

"And if you die? Will I die too?"

_Maybe. For a human . . . it is different. You would perhaps go mad with grief instead. But you might die, if you willed yourself to do so. The only way to prevent that would be to bond again with another grimm wolf._

"Then why couldn't you do that as well if I died?" Rumple demanded.

The grimm wolf snorted. _Do you think I would risk bonding with another pain in the ass stubborn sorcerer again? Once is enough for this lifetime!_

"Crazy mutt!" Rumple said affectionately, ruffling the wolf's ears.

_Look who's talking!_ Arrow retorted, and playfully snapped at his fingers.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

That night, Rumple made something from a box called Hamburger Helper, adding to it some ground beef he found in the freezer. It actually turned out very well, and he also had some green beans with it and some biscuits from a tube called Pillsbury. Val had explained all the names were different companies who made food. Rumple thought New York must be gigantic, to have so many families competing over selling food like this.

For dessert they had apple turnovers, also from the freezer, which was well stocked with all kinds of things to eat. Rumple felt slightly guilty about eating the food there, but he didn't know how else to provide for them in this odd land, where there were no markets and no people, or rather, none he could see nearby.

Clothes were another problem, he would have to ask Val where he could get material to make more, though the closet upstairs in his bedroom was full of clothing that he could wear, and often did, to save wearing out his own tunic, shirt, and breeches. He'd found clothing for a small woman too, and one day had used his magic inadvertently and shrunk a set of pants and a shirt small enough to fit Val.

But when he tried to do it again to give Bae another set of clothing, he couldn't, and ended up with a headache and frustrated. He couldn't seem to get a handle on his magic, and often things flew off shelves or around the room when he went by.

Val and Bae thought it was hysterical, and would laugh when that happened, though once he'd caused an entire container of salt to explode and it'd taken hours to clean it all up, so sometimes it wasn't funny.

Arrow had said such things were commonplace with a new magician trying to master his power, and when he learned how to do so, they would stop.

_Your magic wants to be used, Rumple, _the grimm wolf told him that night. _In fact, a magician should be using his or her magic daily, for at least small things, so you don't become depressed and make your magic go crazy._

"If I don't use my magic that's what happens?"

_Yes. It is part of you, and wants you to use it, to acknowledge it. To a magician, magic is their life, and not using magic is like asking a bird not to fly or a fish not to swim. Or a wolf not to hunt. Haven't you noticed a difference when you use magic on one day and not another?_

"Well, I feel . . . happier and more relaxed. And less inclined to get annoyed when my children run screaming through the house with muddy shoes playing Sheriff and Robbers or whatever it is."

_Exactly. Because you are doing what you are meant to, sorcerer. And with practice comes control too. So use your magic, Rumple. Once it's awakened, you can't send it back to sleep._

"What about Val? Shouldn't she be using it too?"

_Yes and no. She was using it before, coming back and forth through the portal. But her magic is not fully awakened yet, and so she doesn't feel the need to use it like you do._

So that night, Rumple made their mugs of hot cocoa float over to them while they watched an episode of Wonderful World of Disney, making the children clap at the sight and Val declare that it was the coolest thing to have Rumple do magic like that. And Bae agreed with her.

Now if only he could help Val conquer her nightmares and get rid of the damn dagger he could concentrate on other things, such as teaching his son to read and teaching Val to embroider a sampler, before they became obsessed with the television.

**A/N: Hope you liked my take on magic, it's different in a way from the show version. How should Rumple get rid of the dagger?**


	24. Prophecy

**24**

**Prophecy**

**A/N: This is a semi-funny chapter, as I felt things needed to get a bit lighthearted for once, though there is some seriousness in it.**

By the time a week had gone by at the cabin, Rumple was heartily sick of the television. Or at least the way it seemed to influence his children, who were currently fighting over it.

"Bae, it's my turn to watch Inspector Gadget!" Val snapped, glaring at her friend, who was holding the remote in his hand.

"But Val! It's the Pokemon marathon right now, and I need to see if they find Charizard!" Bae replied, frowning.

"They do, okay? Now let me have the remote, you've been hogging it all morning."

"Well, thanks for ruining it for me!" he cried angrily.

"I didn't ruin anything."

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"It's my turn!"

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

"_Enough_!" Rumple cried, and shut off the TV.

Both children quit glaring at each other and instead glared at him.

"Hey!" Val cried. "I was just going to watch—"

"Nothing," Rumple interjected, standing in front of the TV.

"But Papa, it's almost time to—" Bae began.

"—go outside and play for an hour before supper," his father finished his sentence.

"Aww, but Papa! The Pokemon—"

"Baelfire, I don't care what you were watching on this blasted box, I've had enough of you two squabbling like two roosters over it. You're becoming obsessed and that's not a good thing. So now you're going to take a break and go outside and play, because I'm just about on my last nerve."

His small son scowled and started to say something, when Rumple interjected, "I don't want to hear anymore about what's on, whose turn it is, this sucks, or anything, or else you'll both be in time out and go to bed without dessert. Am I clear?"

Bae heaved a sigh, recognizing that Rumple meant what he said (he usually did, but sometimes he could be persuaded to make a deal). This was not one of those times. "Yes, sir," he said, a trifle sulkily.

Val just nodded her head, going mute, as she usually did when Rumple scolded her, which almost never. She grabbed Bae's hand and dragged him out the door, Arrow following, as if afraid of staying in the same room with Rumple.

The spinner sighed, thinking perhaps he'd been a bit too harsh. But he hadn't yelled, hadn't done anything save speak in a soft controlled tone. Because they really _had_ been getting on his nerves with their constant quarreling over the past few days about the TV. Since they'd come here, they'd been practically glued to television, and Rumple had to schedule everything around whatever they were watching. He'd quickly discovered you could watch TV the whole day, and that was something he definitely didn't want his children doing.

Some TV was fine, but he'd quickly seen how easy it was to get obsessed with a particular show, and the quarrels that ensued were not something he wished to deal with on a daily basis. At all.

It was too bad all of Val's games she had brought had been left behind when they fled, for Rumple wouldn't have minded them playing Candy Land or Connect Four instead of watching TV, or reading the fairy tale book, which thankfully had not been left behind.

_But they need to take a break from that blasted TV, before they become slaves to it. And Val needs to learn to trust me not to hurt her, even if I do scold her for something,_ he thought. He'd been careful not to yell, but he couldn't correct one child and not the other if both were doing something wrong. That wouldn't be fair, and he wanted above all to be fair to them.

Rumple went and sat down on the couch, picking up a book he'd found on a small bookshelf in the master bedroom. It was called _Strongholds and Shadows_ by someone named Elizabeth Chadwick, and it was very entertaining and gripping, an interesting account of life in another century in a place called England, wherever that was. The author wrote well and Rumple found himself reading whenever he had some spare time, which was quite a lot, since being here in the cabin with all the electrical machines made his chores incredibly easy. It took between ten and fifteen minutes to prepare a meal from the selection of canned goods and frozen foods and barely two hours to do laundry and with the dishwasher you didn't need to wash dishes so cleaning up was a breeze. It was almost like living in a palace with servants, and yet he didn't want to grow lazy, or let his children become so either.

He decided to reinstate the daily chores he'd had the children do when they lived at the cottage, and then set aside a few hours to do lessons, because he needed to teach Bae how to read, and if he could ever find decent cloth and thread in this place, he'd teach Val to stitch a sampler, which was common for girls to learn back where he'd come from. He also needed to shop for cloth or find somewhere that sold clothing because they couldn't keep wearing the same clothes day in and day out.

From the TV commercials, he'd gathered that there were places to shop for things like that, he just didn't know where they were or how to get there. He'd noticed that people didn't travel by horse or carriage in this realm, but in odd contraptions with four round wheels, kind of like metal carts. They were called cars, Val had told him, but there wasn't one here for them to use, and even if there had been, he didn't know how to use one.

He would have cheerfully remained here, and not ventured out at all save for the fact that they needed clothes, and other necessities, like milk, eggs, and bread, as they had used up all the bread and there had been no milk and eggs in the large box Val called a fridge. And no neighbors to trade from either. Val had said people lived far away from each other in New York in the country, not like the city, where they were practically on top of each other and you could walk almost everywhere or take something called a bus.

Rumple wondered how far it was to the nearest market, because he'd have to walk there.

But for now he would finish the chapter he was on, and afterwards start supper.

He used his magic to make a bowl and spoon come to him, trying to refine his control, as Arrow had told him, and had soon prepared something called pasta with some red tomato sauce from another jar, and heated up a loaf of bread in the oven, accompanying it with some butter. Val had shown him how to make this simple dish, which she said was one of Mrs. DeLuca's favorites, though she normally would make sauce from scratch, and meatballs too. They didn't have any of those, so Rumple just made do with what was there.

He called the children and Arrow in from the yard, and had them set the table. They seemed to be their usual selves now, with Bae joking with Val and Val telling Rumple about the new birds and a butterfly she'd seen outside while they romped with Arrow.

_I think I've tired the pups out some, Rumple,_ the wolf sent, drinking some water from his bowl. _Or they've tired me out, I'm not sure which._

Rumple paused to stroke the grimm wolf's back, then said softly, "Have you hunted for yourself, or would you like me to thaw another steak for you?"

_No. I found two rabbits today and that was plenty. My kind doesn't need to eat as much as a regular wolf. It's the way we're made._

It was a good thing too, Rumple thought as he drained the pasta, since otherwise they'd be out of food.

After they'd cleaned up and gotten baths and changed into their nighties, Rumple had them both sit beside him on the couch, while Arrow lazed on the hearth while the fire snapped and crackled, and said, "I need to go over a few things with you, dearies. The first being how much TV you're watching. Now, I don't mind you watching it for an hour or two in the morning after your chores and some in the afternoon, but this constant . . . bickering over it has to stop. So, here's my new rules. They're similar to the ones we had before, but there will be new ones added for the TV here." He detailed quickly their chores and the times during the morning and afternoon acceptable for watching the blasted television. He allowed the two to choose certain times when their favorite shows were on to watch it, and the rest of the time he wanted them to play outdoors, or inside with each other, or to have lessons. "I mean to teach you to read while we're here, Bae, and for you to sew, Val, but I do need to find a market or a store here so I can buy certain things. Do you know where one might be around here, Val?"

Val shook her head. "Umm . . . this isn't Manhattan, Rumple, where I used to know where everything was. But maybe we could find WalMart by watching TV. That's like a big market and they sell like everything there, clothes, food, toys."

"I see. And how do we get there?"

"Umm . . . most people drive there, but . . . maybe I could magic us there with a portal," Val said. Then she thought of something else. "Umm . . . do you have any money, Rumple? You need it here to buy stuff."

"I have the coins I retrieved from my cash box before I came to get you at Rachel's," he said, and went to get the pouch inside his tunic pocket. But when he opened it to show Val, he found odd pieces of green paper inside and not his hard earned gold sovereigns, silver pieces, and copper pennies. "What . . . happened to all my gold?" he cried, shocked. "What is . . . this?" He picked up one of the pieces of paper, which had a man's face on it, some writing, and a number.

Val's eyes widened. "That's money, Rumple! The kind we use here in New York."

"This . . . is what you use? It's paper!"

"Yeah, but it's how we pay for stuff. I know a little about it, Mrs. DeLuca taught me," Val said, gently taking the bill from him. "The number on it tells how much it's worth. It must have . . . transformed or something when we came here."

"And what's it worth, dearie?" he queried.

"This one's worth a lot. It's a hundred dollars," Val exclaimed. "You got any more like this?"

"Have a look," he said, and spilled out the entire pouch on the sofa. There were also small shiny coins of silver and copper as well as more green paper.

Val gasped. "You've got like a fortune here."

"Are we rich then?" asked Bae.

"Yeah. Least I think so. It's more money than I've ever seen in my life," the little girl declared. "Let me count it."

There were some more hundred dollar bills, some fifties, and lots of twenties. Val put them into piles, then counted slowly. Luckily she was good at math, and soon she said they had close to two thousand dollars there.

"Is that enough to buy you clothes and other things?" the sorcerer asked.

"Oh, yeah. It's plenty," Val assured him. "Maybe we can go to WalMart tomorrow and go shopping."

"Sounds like a plan, dearie. Now why don't we have some of those cookies . . . Oreos, I think you said they were called?" Rumple asked.

"Yes, please!" the children chorused.

So he made cups of tea for them all and they had dessert, read two fairy tales, and then were tucked into bed.

Rumple prayed Val would sleep through the night, and not wake screaming with nightmares again. Then he went and drew himself a hot bath, something which he hardly ever had the luxury of doing at home.

He soaked in the huge marble tub, adding something called milk and honey bubble bath to the water and finding to his delight that it foamed and bubbled brilliantly. He stayed in the tub for nearly twenty minutes, because it felt so wonderful on his leg, easing all the strained muscles and relaxing them like nothing he'd ever tried before.

He almost wished he could breathe water like a fish, it was so comfortable! It was so soothing he nearly fell asleep in the water. Finally, reluctantly, he made himself get out of the bath and into his sleepwear, which was one of the short-sleeved cotton shirts he'd found here and some loose cotton drawstring pants. He pulled the plug and watched all the water drain out, deciding he was too sleepy to rinse the tub tonight, he'd do so tomorrow, and went straight to bed.

He was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.

He woke only once, to find a small body snuggled next to him. It was Val, she'd crawled into bed beside him, as she often did after a nightmare. "Bad dream, dearie?" he mumbled.

"Amanda Willa and I got scared," she whispered.

" S'all right," he yawned, and put an arm about her, drawing her to him and then falling back to sleep.

Val cuddled into his embrace, putting her head on his shoulder and then falling asleep as well, her doll smushed between them.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

After they'd all eaten Pop Tarts for breakfast and drank some apple juice, Rumple had Val wear the clothes he'd shrunk for her last week and concentrated hard and tried to shrink a pair of jeans and a shirt for Bae. He could feel the magic within him, but it oddly refused to do what he wanted. Frustrated, he glared at the clothes, and suddenly they started shrinking.

When he thought they were the right size, he stopped concentrating, and wonder of wonders, the clothes stopped shrinking. "There! Wear these, Baelfire. That's how people dress in New York."

Bae took his "new" clothes and rushed off to get dressed.

He soon rejoined them, saying, "These are neat, Papa!" He eyed his father, who looked somewhat different in his jeans and soft blue collared shirt, the only things that were the same were his boots and walking staff.

"Hmm. Perhaps I can leave the staff here," Rumple mused, for the pain in his leg was almost  
nothing today.

He walked experimentally across the kitchen, and found it hardly hurt at all. He still limped, but it was nothing compared to the way he'd been before. That bath had worked quite a change. _I'll have to do it again tonight,_ he thought, pleased.

Then he yawned, he felt oddly sleepy. "Why in hell am I tired?"

_Because you cast a spell today, and you aren't used to doing it,_ Arrow said. _So the magic drained you and you're tired. Why don't you lie down for a bit while the pups watch the magic box?_

So Rumple napped while Val and Bae watched cartoons, and afterwards let Arrow out to hunt.

When he'd rested, he asked Val if she could open a door to this WalMart place.

"I can try," she said. Then she closed her eyes and wished to go to the closest WalMart.

In about three minutes, a glowing door formed in the kitchen and showed a large building with the name WalMart on it. "I did it!"

"Good job, dearie!" Rumple praised. "Now let me get some of that money and we'll get going."

He shoved several of the bills in the pocket of his jeans and then he took Val and Bae's hands and stepped through the door and onto the wide black street.

Luckily they emerged at the back of the parking lot, where no one saw them appearing out of thin air, as they might have closer to the store.

They walked quickly towards the store, and Val ran and got a blue shopping cart. "We can put things in it," she explained. "And take turns pushing it."

"I wanna try!" Bae said, and Val let him push the cart for a bit.

By the time they got to the entrance, both kids were sick of pushing the cart and gave it to Rumple, who was rather grateful to have it to lean on from time to time.

As they entered the store, following the rest of the people pushing carts like they were, they were greeted by an elderly lady wearing a blue apron. "Hi! Welcome to WalMart!" she said. "My, what cute kids you have!"

"Thank you," Rumple said, and gave her a smile in return.

Bae was looking about wide-eyed. "What smells so good?" he asked as they passed the McDonald's.

"That's McDonald's," Val said. "They sell hamburgers and fries and shakes there."

"Can we get some?" Bae looked pleadingly at Rumple.

"Later. You just ate, for heaven's sake," his father chided. "Val, where do we find clothes in this place?"

"In the kid's section," she said, and pointed to where there seemed to displays of children's clothing in all kinds of styles, colors, and materials.

They were separated into boys and girls clothing, and for one minute Rumple felt his head swim. It was like a spinner's paradise in front him, endless kinds of fabrics and styles to pick from. "Come on, dearies, let's have some fun!"

Forty minutes later, each child had about six outfits, with everything from underclothes to pajamas. He pretty much allowed Val and Bae to pick out their own clothes, though he made a few suggestions here and there, which both children usually agreed to.

Then Val dragged him into toy aisle, where he agreed to buy one reasonably priced toy for each of them. Val picked a stuffed kitten, saying it could be Amanda Willa's pet, and Bae chose some colorful plastic Pokemon figures.

"Put them in the cart, dearies, and let's find out where they have the food," he told them.

As Val pointed behind them and to the left, Rumple turned the cart about.

As he did so, some child let out an unholy screech nearby.

Thinking someone was hurt, Rumple craned his head to see what the commotion was about.

Instead of seeing a child bleeding, which was what he expected, he saw a little tow-headed boy a little younger than Bae howling at the top of his lungs, "I wa-a-ant it! NOW!" and pointing to a bunch of strange toys on a shelf.

His harried mother, a blond resembling the little terror, was wringing her hands and saying futilely, "Now, Tyler, there's no need to scream. Mommy will get the toy another time."

"NO! NOW!"

Rumple thought he was going to go deaf. He had never known a child who wasn't seriously hurt to scream like that. And over a toy too! He pushed the cart as quickly as he could, the child's screams still audible even from several feet away.

Bae and Val looked at each other, then Bae said, "What a spoiled brat!"

"Spoiled rotten," Val agreed.

"That's for sure," Rumple said. "That kid needs a nap, a good whack, and some time in the corner. You two had better never pull anything like that, or else."

"We won't," they assured him.

It was as they were getting some milk, eggs, and bread as well as some fruit and other things that Rumple became aware of being watched.

He slowly turned around to see two young women, around his age or a little younger, eyeing him over their blue carts. Their regard made him feel oddly embarrassed and he quickly turned away, but not before he caught their conversation.

"Ooh, Mandy, look at that hot guy over there! He's like so hot I'm melting! Where'd _he_ come from?"

"Don't know, but if there're more like him, I could die happy!" crooned the second girl. "But I bet he's married. Look, he's got kids."

"Who cares? He's sweet! Isn't he fine? I love his hair and he's got nice shoulders and a sexy ass! Ooh baby!"

"Maybe you should ask for his number, Stacy," Mandy snickered.

_Number of what?_ Rumple thought, blushing as he realized they were doing something no woman had done in years . . . admiring him. Him, the crippled spinner coward. And they thought he was sexy?

Beside him Val giggled, "I think that girl likes you, Rumple."

"You do?" Bae asked.

"Uh huh. Look how she's looking at him, Bae."

Rumple coughed. "Uh . . . who wants some grapes?" Then he asked, unable to help himself, "Val, why would she want my number?"

Val started giggling. "Aww! She _does_ like you! You only ask a person for their number if you're gonna call them up and ask them on a date."

"A date? I . . . I don't even _know_ her!" Rumple sputtered. "And why would she want to date _me_? A crippled spinner?"

"Hey!" Val objected. "You're not crippled, you're a veteran."

"Yeah, and you're not even using your cane today," Bae seconded.

"Doesn't matter," he murmured. "I know what I am." He picked up a bunch of red grapes and put them in the cart. _A crippled coward, _his mind completed the sentence Milah had often finished in his head.

Bae turned from where he'd picked up an apple. "I think you oughta say hi to her, Papa."

"What? Now you quit playing matchmaker, boy!" he half-scolded, feeling himself begin to blush all the way down to his boots.

Suddenly Val threw her arms about him and hugged him. Then she looked back at the two women, who were still drooling over Rumple, and said, "Hi! This is my papa. Isn't he cute?"

Rumple was torn between wanting to sink into the floor and rapture because Val had suddenly started referring to him as papa. He couldn't resist smiling at his daughter.

"Yeah, he sure is, honey!" the first one said, smiling. Her gaze suddenly darted to Rumple's left hand, where he'd removed his wedding band after Milah had left. "Oh my God! There's no ring! Are you like, not married?" she gasped.

"Umm . . . I used to be," Rumple said awkwardly.

Then Bae chimed in with, "Till my mama left him. She ran off with a deadbeat."

"Bae!" Now Rumple was sure he was going to die.

"Oh! How terrible!" gasped Mandy, looking at him with sympathy.

"She left _you_? Man, she must have been one stupid bi-umm . . . you know," said her friend.

"She was dumber than a box of rocks," Val agreed, still hugging Rumple.

"Yup," Bae agreed.

"Uh . . . well, yes. But at least she left and didn't take the children," Rumple said, floundering. This conversation was spinning rapidly out of control. "Uh . . ." He looked up and saw across the aisle some colorful boxes in the freezer labeled ice cream. "Look, kids! Ice cream!" he blurted, hoping to distract them.

"Where? I want some!" Bae cried.

"Me too! I want cookies and cream!" Val seconded, releasing Rumple and taking Bae's hand to bring him over to the freezer.

"Uh . . . excuse me . . ." Rumple said quickly. "Nice meeting you." He started to push the shopping cart after the two kids.

"Hey, can I have your number?"

Rumple felt his ears turn pink. "Uh . . ."

"Our phone's not working," Val announced. "We just moved here."

"Maybe some other time," Rumple managed. Were all women this forward in New York?

"Oh. Well . . . good luck," said Mandy.

"Yeah, and welcome to Crystal Falls," added Stacy. Then she came over and handed him a small slip of paper. "See ya around, handsome!"

Then she and her friend walked away, and he caught her saying, "Oh my God! I can't believe I just did that! But it's like meeting Patrick Swayze in the Shop Rite!"

Rumple stared down at the piece of paper in his hand, which had a string of numbers on it.

"She gave you her number?" Val cried, staring at his hand. "Wow! Then she _really_ likes you!" Then she burst out laughing.

So did Bae.

Rumple prayed the little old lady down the other end of the aisle was deaf.

Once they had gotten groceries, which included two kinds of ice cream and Peanut Butter Cap'n Crunch and Honey Nut Cheerios cereal, as well as more Jif and Wonder bread, Rumple decided it was time to pay and get out of here. He was sure half the women he passed were eyeing him like dogs eyed a nice juicy bone and while he felt almost flattered, he wasn't used to all the attention, and it embarrassed him.

Everything cost $255, and then Bae started begging to get some McDonald's for lunch.

"Yeah! Let's get chicken nuggets and fries! And Coke!" Val said. "Please, Papa?" She gave him puppydog eyes.

Rumple groaned. But how could he say no to her now? "Okay."

"Gets you everytime, huh?" laughed the woman behind him, who had a little boy in her cart.

"Yes," Rumple nodded, then followed Val over to McDonald's. "Uh . . . just tell the lady what you want," he said to her.

"What do you want, Papa?"

Rumple wanted to go home, but he looked up at the glowing menu and said, "That. The number 1 meal."

"Okay. Gimme a twenty," Val said, holding out her hand.

Rumple placed a twenty in it and watched as the little girl skipped up to the counter, chirped an order for a Big Mac meal and two Happy Meals, handed the girl the money and then ran back to Rumple with the change and the receipt.

"I told her we wanted it to go. So we can take it home and eat it before the ice cream melts," she said, and handed him the change.

"How long will it take?" he asked, shoving the rest of the money into his pocket.

"Couple minutes. It's why it's called fast food," she answered.

In about five minutes they were all holding colorful bags and a carton with milkshakes and then Val and Bae were hanging onto the cart as Rumple pushed it out the door.

Once they had gone far enough into the parking lot to avoid being seen, Val called up another portal, only this time it took them and the shopping cart with them back to the cabin.

Arrow came to greet them, asking what the incredible smell was coming from the bags they were holding.

"Uh . . . food," Rumple said.

"Here, Arrow! Here's a hamburger!" Val said, unwrapping something from yellow paper and tossing it to the grimm wolf.

It vanished down his throat in two seconds. _Mmm! That was great! Got more?_

"Sorry," Rumple shook his head, thanking Val for her foresight.

They carried all the bags into the cabin, and after they'd put away the perishables, sat down to eat, leaving the rest of the bags for later.

Bae opened his Happy Meal and stared at the toy beside the package of chicken nuggets and fries. "Hey, what's this?"

"It's the Happy Meal toy," Val answered. "You always get that."

"Cool! Papa, this place gives you presents with your lunch!" Bae was in transports. "We gotta eat there again!"

Rumple had just taken a bite out of his Big Mac, and had to agree it did taste good. He ate some of what Val called French fries with ketchup and thought he'd died and gone to heaven when he tasted them. "These are . . . amazing!" he said, eating them as rapidly as he could without burning his mouth.

"I love fries," Val said, as she dunked her chicken nuggets in barbeque sauce.

"Mmm!" Bae nodded, drinking his shake.

Everyone ate ravenously, until it was all gone, then Rumple had them help put away the groceries before they went to play in the den with their new toys. He'd also bought some children's books, paper, and crayons, as well as two books for himself, a small embroidery hoop, cloth, and colored thread plus a whole sewing kit.

After he'd put all their new purchases away, he was feeling rather tired, and went and curled up on the couch and read some more of _Shadows and Strongholds_ while the kids played on the rug.

He had just finished a chapter and was struggling to keep awake when Val said she was tired and wanted to take a nap.

She came and curled up beside him, and Bae said he was too, and came and snuggled on the other side and before Rumple knew it, they all had fallen asleep.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Afterwards, Rumple was never sure if it had been his neophyte powers or the Big Mac that had caused him to dream what he did, but the fact was he had the strangest dream there on the couch with his children sprawled all over him.

He dreamed of the dagger again, but unlike the other times, where he became a monster holding it, this time was different. He dreamed of finding a safe place to hide the weapon, and voice spoke in his head about running water and sacred places, which would keep the evil contained until he found _a beauty with a true heart who married the spinner king and by two drops of their blood mingled shall shatter the Dark One's curse and bring Balance back to the realms._

He saw himself with a lovely woman with dark hair and blue eyes, as he took the dagger from out of the stream and set it on the bank, then pierced their hands with another knife and let their blood mingle and then flow onto the cursed dagger. When the drops of blood hit the blade, it smoked, sizzled, obscuring the name Zoso, and then it shattered, its curse broken forever.

He woke up gasping and for a moment didn't know where he was. Then he blinked and saw the cabin and Arrow lying in front of the table where Val and Bae had left their toys.

_Bad dream, magician?_ The grimm wolf asked, panting slightly.

"No. Just . . . strange. I dreamed about the dagger . . . and how to break the curse," Rumple said, shifting slightly so he could look at his familiar and not wake the sleeping Bae and Val.

_Tell me,_ Arrow ordered.

Rumple did. "See? It's crazy."

_No. Not crazy. Prophecy. You dreamed true, my sorcerer,_ Arrow said, thumping his tail on the floor.

Rumple eyed him askance. "Prophecy? Me? Come on!"

_I know prophecy when I hear it,_ the wolf insisted. _Like I knew you had magic. Don't be stubborn, Rumple. Believe. Your gift is telling you how to destroy the dagger._

"By me dreaming of a woman I don't even know mingling her blood with mine and breaking it? Please, Arrow! It was just a dream."

_No. It was not. At least we should follow what the prophecy told us and put the dagger in a safe place._

"Where?"

_The dream showed you. With running water on sacred ground. Those two things bind dark magic. Always have, in this realm or any other._

"How am I going to find such a place?"

_I believe I already have. After supper, while the children watch that magic box, I'll show you,_ Arrow said.

"We're supposed to hide it here?"

_Here its influence is dampened. And here no one is looking for it. So it will be safe until you complete the rest of the prophecy._

"The rest of the prophecy is insane! It said a _spinner king and a beauty of true heart must mingle their blood_. Wolf, I may be one, but I'll never be the other! I'm a commoner, not a single drop of royal blood in me, and no princess will ever marry me and even then, I would never be king, just prince consort. It's impossible! We can hide the dagger, but the rest . . . ridiculous!"

_You never know, magician. Have faith._

"In what? Some dream brought on by eating a Big Mac? Sure! Don't make me laugh!" Rumple snorted.

_Stubborn twit! Someday I'm going to laugh—at you for not listening to me, sorcerer!_ Arrow returned, huffing.

"In your dreams, wolf," his sorcerer laughed, then he closed his eyes again and slept some more, as there was time before he had to make supper yet.


	25. The Safest Place

**25**

**The Safest Place**

Rumple told the children they could start watching _The Wizard of Oz_ without him, as Arrow needed to show him something first. He had made a bowl of microwave popcorn for them and they had glasses of milk also for the movie. Once they were both ensconced on the couch, eyes glued to the set, Rumple followed his familiar out the door and off towards the right, where the stream burbled and gurgled, chattering its way over the bed of rocks and dirt down to the great Hudson River. Of course, neither wolf nor spinner knew that bit of geography, but it hardly mattered as Rumple picked his way delicately across the ground, feeling with his staff to make certain the ground was free of holes before he stepped on it, lest he take a nasty tumble and break his foot or something.

Arrow trotted slightly ahead of his wizard, glancing back every now and again to make sure Rumple was following all right. It was growing on to the gloaming now, the hour between dusk and daylight, and the light was fading as evening shadows approached. _Come along, Rumple. Just a few more steps, there you go!_

"You sound like you're talking to a bloody toddler, wolf!" his sorcerer grumbled.

_You're half-blind in the dark, I'm just trying to help,_ Arrow sent, his tongue protruding between his fangs in a lupine grin.

Rumple planted his staff a bit more firmly on the ground and heaved a sigh. "It's too bad I couldn't see in the dark like you."

_Hmm . . . that might be possible . . . if you concentrate a little more on our bond. You could use my eyes to see, after a fashion._

"How?"

_Think about our bond, Rumple. Then see through my eyes._

Rumple shut his own eyes to concentrate, focusing on the warmth that was the link between himself and Arrow. The link was like a ribbon of brilliant light running through him, radiating an extreme heat, almost like a rousing bonfire. Rumple concentrated, and the heat suddenly shifted, until he felt it throb behind his temples. He rubbed his eyes, they stung, then he opened them, squinting because . . . the light was so bright.

Bright?

It was almost nightfall, he recalled. But his eyes saw as clearly as if it were brightest day. He blinked, wondering why there seemed to be an odd haze over everything.

"Arrow? I think I did it."

_Can you see, Rumple?_

"Yes. Much better than I did before. Is it always this bright for you?"

_Sometimes. Now follow me, please._

Rumple found with his newfound sight he no longer had to worry about stumbling and falling over rocks or other things, he could limp along almost as quickly as his companion. He found himself smiling, his newfound "sight" was a glorious thing! For the first time he realized just what potential lived within him, what magic's gift could do. It had given him a way to see the world beyond his ordinary human senses, allowed him to slip free of the limitations of the crippled body he inhabited and it made him feel incredible.

Arrow felt his sorcerer's joy and yipped softly in acknowledgement. _Now you see truly, my friend. Now you see as you were meant to, a sorcerer born to magic's gift. Is it not a beautiful thing?_

Rumple tilted his head back and gazed up at the moon, laughing. "Arrow, it's . . . so very amazing! This magic . . . it's a gift beyond price."

_But all magic comes with a price, Rumple. Never forget it. Now come, the place I must show you is a few feet beyond here._

The spinner limped after the grimm wolf's gray tail, as Arrow led him nearly to the boundary of the property, right along the stream, which seemed to flow a bit deeper and faster there. Finally, Arrow halted, and sat, staring out at the dark water, which eddied and flowed over some rocks that protruded from the water in an odd sickle-shaped pattern.

"Arrow, is this it?"

_Yes. Do you see the middle of that crescent shape?_

Rumple nodded. "Yes. The water is swirling and dark there, almost like a whirlpool."

_Exactly. There is a depression there, deep within the water. And my senses tell me that this was once a sacred place here. If you concentrate a bit, you can feel that once there was magic used here._

Rumple allowed his senses to extend outward, and felt what the grimm wolf did. "This is where we should hide the dagger."

_Yes. It is like in your dream. The safest place to hide such an evil object is with running water on sacred ground. This meets that criteria._

"It does, dearie. Where is the damned thing?"

_I dug a hole and buried it at the edge of the yard. Stay here while I fetch it,_ Arrow ordered, then he sprang away, until he was a blur of silver that disappeared into the shadows.

Rumple stood like a sentry beside the stream, waiting for about five minutes until his grimm wolf returned with the dagger in his teeth. As the wolf trotted up to him, Rumple wrinkled his nose, as the stench of rotten garbage assaulted his nostrils. For some reason, the stench was so prevalent that it turned his stomach. "Ugh! Let's get rid of the thing, Arrow, before I lose my supper."

The big wolf slipped into the stream, the dagger held securely in his jaws. Five steps in and he sank nearly to his chest in the water. But then his huge paws scrabbled up on the rocks and he stood silhouetted against the sky, his paws planted upon the white rocks that jutted forth from the stream in the crescent pattern.

He bent his head down, and released the dagger.

It fell into the swirling water, down into the sinkhole, and came to rest against the stream bottom, half in the muck, trapped by the running water, entombed in the sacred ground, whose innate magic roused at the touch of the foreign evil, and bound it fast.

_'Tis done, Rumple!_ Arrow howled. _Can you not feel it?_

Rumple breathed in sharply, the air was free of the tainted smell of rotting meat and eggs at last. As he drew in great lungfuls of the pure mountain air, he felt something shift and change about him. The dark presence that had hung over this place was suddenly banished and Rumple felt all the tension within him ease and he felt lighter, happier, filled with hope.

As Arrow splashed his way back to his side, he knelt and hugged the grimm wolf, unmindful that the wolf was dripping wet and he got his shirt and jeans all soaked. "Oh, wolf! I feel like a great weight has been lifted off my back."

The grimm wolf shook playfully, and droplets of water flew all over. His cold nose nudged Rumple's neck, and his long tongue swept across the sorcerer's cheek. _That's because the dagger is bound, Rumple! Bound and powerless! This is how it feels without its infernal influence._ Arrow licked Rumple's other cheek, then yipped softly and wriggled out of Rumple's embrace. _Come, my friend. Time to go back to the pups. I'm sure you'll find no nightmares haunt you tonight, Rumple!_

"Or Val either, I hope," he said, then he half-ran back to the cabin.

By the time they reached it, Arrow's fur was half dry and Rumple rubbed the rest dry with a towel.

Upon entering the cabin, he found Val and Bae still on the couch, staring at the TV, which showed a little girl in a blue and white checkered dress with a small black dog, singing and skipping down a yellow brick road along with a scarecrow and a walking suit of armor. The scene made him smile, and he gently rearranged the bowl of popcorn so he could sit inbetween them.

"You're back!" Bae said, and hugged him. "But you missed the cool part. When the house falls on the Wicked Witch of the East."

"And the cyclone, and Miss Gulch on her flying bicycle," Val added. "And now they're in Oz and going to find the Emerald City."

"Sounds like an adventure, dearies," Rumple said, and snagged some popcorn and ate it.

Soon Bae had his head in Rumple's lap and Val was snuggled on his other side.

Suddenly, the little girl frowned and tapped his shirt, asking, "Papa, why are you all wet?"

"Oh. Arrow went for a swim and then he shook all over me," her father answered. "I should have changed my shirt first before sitting down here."

"You can do it during a commercial," she said, then grabbed a throw from the back of the couch and placed it over him, then leaned against him. "There! Better!"

Rumple found himself inhaling the sweet scent of milk and vanilla as Val leaned back against him, her small head resting trustingly against his shoulder. His arm curled loosely about her, and he felt a sudden lassitude flow through him. But despite his sudden weariness, he felt unbelievably happy and content. As well as unexpectedly blessed, with his two precious children here beside him, his familiar stretched out beside his feet, and a tingling cozy warmth that relieved his aching leg.

He found himself enjoying the movie, finding it at times silly, funny, and endearing, with a good message for his children to learn . . . as well as himself. _Never give up. For courage is found in the most unexpected places and there really is no place like home._

By the time the movie was over, Bae and Val were asleep, and Rumple was halfway there. Feeling supremely lazy, he just lay there, his eyes shutting, drifting away to the merry tune of "Follow the Yellow Brick Road" as the credits rolled on the screen.

When his eyes opened, it was morning, and he realized that he wasn't stiff, like he normally was when he first woke, and even more importantly, Val had slept all night without waking with horrific nightmares.

Rumple smiled. It must be because the dagger was bound. Its aura must have spawned those dreadful dreams, and now that it was in the safest place he could find, it could no longer affect his daughter or himself. His gaze drifted to his son, who slept still with his head in Rumple's lap, his little mouth half open as he breathed. _Bae. My sweet boy,_ his hand tangled briefly in his son's hair. Then he turned to see Val, who slept peacefully at last, her long lashes a sooty smear against her delicate ivory skin, her little hand curled about his chest, cuddled against him. _Finally! A good night's rest, my pretty girl._ His hand moved to gently rub her back, as he often did when she woke hysterical from nightmares.

"Mmm . . ." she whimpered slightly, shifting so she was snuggled further against his warm side.

"Shhh. Sleep, pretty girl," he whispered, feeling a thrill once again as he recalled her little voice calling him 'papa' in the WalMart. He had felt as if he had received a king's ransom in that moment, for her acknowledgement meant that she trusted him fully at last, and had finally put the specter of her awful father behind her. At long last, he felt proud of himself, for he had achieved something wonderful—he gained the love of this poor damaged soul, and he vowed to always be worthy of it.

_Baelfire and Valentina. You are the best things in my life. I will love and protect you forever. _

He placed a kiss upon each little head before he allowed himself to drift back to sleep, his mind free at last from the dagger's dark dreams.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

In the days that followed, Rumple and the children spent many hours learning various things, as Rumple kept his promise and taught Bae to read and Val to sew, and had his own lessons learning to control his magic with Arrow. The grimm wolf's bond with his sorcerer deepened, until by the end of a month, they were inseparable, and Rumple could feel Arrow in his mind even when the wolf was away from the cabin, hunting.

Rumple finished _Shadows and Strongholds_ and went on to read the other books by Elizabeth Chadwick he'd bought at WalMart—_The Greatest Knight and The Scarlet Lion_. They were tales of a man called William Marshall, an actual person, according to the author notes, and Rumple enjoyed them immensely.

He taught Val and Bae to scrub carrots and peel potatoes and make simple stews and soup. There were less quarrels between the two than there used to be, and he found his leg responding beautifully to repeated soaks in the hot tub. With the ache in it almost fading, he could walk easier, and often had days when he didn't need the aid of his staff, but could walk almost normally on it. It was then that he played outside with the children, enjoying the last days of the summer sunshine, and the sweet laughter as Val and Bae played tag in the yard and Questing Beast with him, where they had to sneak up on the sleeping Beast and touch it without waking it up. If they woke it, the Beast was free to grab them and tickle them until they begged for mercy.

They went on short walks along the stream, gathering pretty rocks and other natural curiosities, and Rumple taught them the names of the wild plants he recognized, and they all grew tanned from the sun and wind.

Arrow ranged alongside them, showing them how he caught fish from the stream, and gave some of his catch to Rumple to fry.

At night he would help Val stitch in her sampler and listen to Bae read from the little children's books he'd purchased, then read to them himself from the fairy tale book. Val now slept soundly in her own bed, like Bae, though Rumple found himself missing her sometimes, when he woke during the night alone. So Arrow took to sleeping with him, lying across his feet.

It was a time of healing and renewal, both in body and spirit, until they were all bound as closely as thread spun upon his wheel, and it was then Rumple knew it was time to return to his own realm, though not to the Enchanted Forest, but somewhere else, where they could start a new life, as master spinner/sorcerer, his two children, and his familiar.

Little did he know that decision would lead to the greatest adventure and the fulfillment of the prophecy he'd dreamed when he first arrived in New York.


	26. Traveling Companions

**26**

**Traveling Companions**

A few days later, Rumple was ready to leave New York and return to his own realm. He made sure that the cabin was cleaned and spotless, just as they had found it when they arrived. He had gone again to WalMart and replaced a lot of the food they had eaten, and bought some so they could travel with it as well—mostly jars of Jif and a few bags of Wonder bread, some tiny tins of jam, a few packages of beef jerky, trail mix, and granola bars. He even bought some small powdered drink mixes, like Lipton iced tea and Kool Aid, in small pouches, as well as some travel sized shower gel and soap and some disposable razor blades, which he loved because he could get a wonderfully close shave and not cut himself to bits. He took all of the children's clothes, plus some he'd been wearing as well, and left two hundred dollar bills on the table, plus a note to the DeLuca's explaining they had used the cabin temporarily and thanked them for their hospitality and he signed it _Valentina, Rumple, and Bae_.

"Okay, kids, now we're all set, right?" he asked, looking at the children, who had gotten into their clothes he'd made for them back in the Enchanted Forest.

Val had her doll in her hand, Bae had a figure from Pokemon, his favorite show, the other three were shoved in his tunic pocket.

Rumple had packed all their books, a deck of cards, and some paper and pencils into the suitcase, which was quite stuffed, as was the pack he had on his back. That pack had all the food and his own personal items. He grabbed his staff and then they all filed out of the door. Rumple turned and set his hand on the doorknob. "Lock," he said softly, and felt his magic lock the door.

Arrow bounded up to him, a lupine grin on his face. _Is it time, Rumple?_

"It is. Val, can you open a door to the Enchanted Forest? Or someplace that we'll be safe, dearie?" Rumple asked the small girl.

Val nodded. Then she walked over to the large maple tree and laid her hand on it. It was odd, but she could feel something within the tree . . . something that she could use like she had back in Manhattan to create a door from here to there. She lowered her head and concentrated, as she had before. _Open, please. I need to go back to Rumple and Bae's land. Open and take us somewhere safe, somewhere where we can all be happy. Open!_

Suddenly, a glowing blue door appeared in the tree, and as she touched it, it showed her a small trail that lead through a large forest. "Here, Papa! I did it!"

"Very good, dearie! All right, Arrow, you go through first, then Bae and I will, and Val, you come last so you can close it. Let's go!"

The grimm wolf leaped through the portal, and then Rumple and Bae stepped through with Bae dragging the blue suitcase. Val turned and looked once back at the cabin and whispered, "Bye, Mrs. DeLuca. And goodbye, New York." She knew without knowing how, that she probably wouldn't see New York again for a long time, if ever.

Then she leaped through the portal, landing on the other side, and the door in the tree snapped shut, and all was left as it had been, save for the dagger of the Dark One buried in the stream.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

"So where are we?" Bae asked as they started walking along the game trail. "Is this the Enchanted Forest?"

"I don't know, dearie. But it's a forest, all right," Rumple said. He turned to Arrow. "Can you scout a bit for us, dearie? Find out where we might be?"

Arrow whuffed. _I'll see, Rumple. But this doesn't seem familiar to me._ The grimm wolf bounded off through the trees.

"In the meantime, let's walk a little bit down here," Rumple said to his children, and they started off through the trees down the small game trail.

About ten minutes later, Arrow returned. _I'm not sure where we are, Rumple. There's forest for miles in all directions, and this is the only trail going through it that I can tell. So we'd best stay on it. Hopefully, it'll lead to a town or something eventually._

"So where are we, Papa?" asked Bae. "What'd Arrow say?" While they were in New York, Rumple had told them he could talk to Arrow in his mind, that it was a magic ability because Arrow was his familiar, which he told them was like a magical friend.

"He said we're in a forest," Rumple said. "Only he's not sure what forest."

Val groaned. "I wished us someplace safe, Papa. How come we're here?"

"I don't know, Valentina. But here we are, and moaning about it won't help," Rumple said philosophically. "So . . . let's keep walking. Eventually we ought to come to a village or something."

**Page~*~*~*~Break**

Three days later, footsore and sick of being in the forest, the children tried to distract themselves by looking for signs of wildlife, but find only squirrels and birds.

"This is so boring!" Bae complained.

"Yeah. I wish we were back in New York," Val groaned.

"With the TV," Bae sighed.

"And the microwave. I wish we had popcorn."

"And chicken nuggets."

"And chocolate shakes."

They continued naming things they used to have in New York until Val tripped and landed hard on her knee. She started sniffling, and Rumple came and knelt beside her. "Let me see, dearie." He gently picked her up and examined her knee, finding it scraped a bit. "Here, let me wash it a little, it's just a little scratch."

"Papa, it stings," Val whimpered.

"You'll live, dearie," he said, gently wiping her knee with a cloth dampened with some water from his canteen.

"You'll be okay, Val. I hurt myself worse once when Marty and Benny were chasing me," Bae told her. "I cut my leg on a rock and it bled all over."

"I remember that. It was a nasty cut and I had to put two stitches in it and he screamed bloody murder," Rumple recalled, wincing.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Val said, making a face. "Can we please stop talking about this stuff?"

"How's that? Better now?" Rumple asked.

"I'm good," she assured him. "I just wish we didn't have to walk anymore. I'm sick of walking."

"Me too. How come we can't fly?" Bae asked.

"Fly? Bae, we're not birds," Rumple chuckled.

"Well, you've got magic, Papa. So why can't you just make us fly?" his son pointed out.

"Because . . . I don't know how. Or if that's even possible," Rumple said.

"Of course it's possible. You're a sorcerer, why wouldn't it be?" Bae argued.

"Maybe you need a broomstick?" Val suggested. "Like the Wicked Witch of the West."

"Oh, come on, dearies! Now can you see me on a broomstick?" Rumple demanded exasperatedly.

Val and Bae thought about it. Then they burst out laughing.

Rumple pretended to be annoyed at them. "Real funny."

Bae just started laughing louder. "It is! Too funny!"

"I think somebody's asking to be tickled to death," his father threatened.

"Gotta catch me then!" Bae teased, pretending to shrink away in fear.

"Gotta catch 'em all!" Val yelled, which was a line from the Pokemon theme show.

Bae went to duck around a tree, and Rumple went to grab him, crying, "C'mere, you little scamp! I'll teach you to laugh at me."

"Run, Bae!" Val shrieked, giggling. "Before the Tickle Monster eats you!"

"What in hell's going on here?" cried a new voice, a man's voice. "Are you hurting those kids, mister? Because if so, you'd better get away before I skewer you!"

The children and Rumple whirled to see a tall man wearing a black top hat step out of the trees. He was wearing black, pants, shirt, and cravat. He looked to be around Rumple's age of twenty-five. He carried a sword at his side.

Bae and Val immediately pressed against Rumple, and Bae cried, "Don't you hurt my papa! He was playing with me, you idiot!"

"Bae, that's no way to talk to . . . whoever this is," Rumple said, staring at the stranger. "I think you're a bit mistaken, dearie. I was playing a game with my children. I'd never harm them. My name's Rumplestiltskin, master spinner. And this is my son, Baelfire and my daughter, Valentina."

Valentina glared at the other man, even though she felt butterflies in her stomach. "You try anything mister, and I'll magic you into thin air!" In her arms, Amanda Willa quivered slightly.

"Hey, take it easy!" the man held up a hand. "My name's Jefferson. Sorry, I just got a little confused. Haven't really been around many kids, I didn't realize you were playing."

Bae stared at him. "How come? Didn't your father ever play with you?"

Jefferson shook his head. "Nope. He never had time, he was always away with his company. He was a soldier, you see. Came home for a couple of weeks inbetween campaigns and that was it. Sorry if I scared you."

Suddenly, there came a soft growl from behind him, and Jefferson turned to see the biggest wolf he'd ever seen baring his teeth at him. "Oh, holy gods! What the hell's that? A monster wolf?" He started to draw his sword.

"Don't do that, dearie. Otherwise I can't be responsible for what he does to you," Rumple warned. "That's Arrow . . . my familiar."

"Hells, you're a sorcerer?" Jefferson gasped. "I thought you were a spinner."

"Actually, I'm both," Rumple explained. "But the sorcery's more recent than the spinning. Arrow, relax! He's not going to hurt us, right?" He slanted a significant glance at Jefferson.

"Oh, no way! It's okay, big fella!" Jefferson began, removing his hand from his sword.

_Sweet singing songbirds, Hatter! What have you gotten yourself into this time?_ asked a voice from up above them.

"Who's that?" cried Bae, looking around.

Arrow whuffed sharply. _Rumple, I smell a cat nearby._

"A cat? Where?" Rumple peered about, not seeing a feline anywhere.

_I'm where you least expect, magic man! Here, there, and everywhere! Look and see, not with your eyes, but with something more!_

"Who's talking?" asked Val.

Jefferson groaned. "Dizzy, quit blabbering and show yourself."

_Why? I was having fun. Honestly, Hatter, you can be a killjoy._

Arrow barked softly. _Rumple, there's a cat around here somewhere. I can smell it._

_Ooh, you've got a good nose, doggie. But then, that's probably all you've got, eh?_ said the voice.

Arrow growled. _Watch it, kitty! Before you become catgut._

_Do you think I'm scared of you, wolf? Hahaha!_ There came snickering from up in the tree and then a pair of green eyes glinted in midair.

"Dizzy, knock it off!" Jefferson ordered. "Or no tuna tonight."

_Fine. Fine. Now you don't see me . . . and now you . . . do._

With that a large cat, almost the size of a badger appeared on the branch of the tree above their heads. But he was unlike any cat they'd ever seen, colored a brilliant lavender with pink stripes.

"Wow! Look at that cat, Papa!" exclaimed Bae.

"I've never seen a cat like that before," Val said. "What is he?"

"That's Dizzy. He's uh, a Cheshire cat. And my current traveling companion," Jefferon said.

"Why's he called Dizzy?" asked Rumple.

"Because if you stare at him long enough, his fur changes patterns and makes your head spin," Jefferson said.

"You're not from around here, are you?" asked Rumple.

"Well, I am. But he's not. He comes from a place called Wonderland. And I don't really have a place I call home, considering I'm a portal jumper. I go where I want, wherever and whenever I feel like it."

"You can make portals?" Val asked interestedly. "But . . . so can I."

Jefferson came over to her. "You? But you're a little kid! I couldn't do it until I was fourteen."

_Maybe she's stronger than you, Jeff,_ Dizzy purred, stretching.

"Or maybe she just has more motivation," Rumple said quickly. "Listen, do you know where we are?"

"You're in . . . uh . . . what's this place called again, Dizzy?" Jeff asked.

_Umm . . . I think it's called Silverwood._

"Right. And that's right near Avonlea City." Jeff said.

"Avonlea. But that's . . . King Maurice's kingdom," Rumple said, calling to mind his geography. "To the south of the Enchanted Forest."

"Yup. Keep going down the road and you'll get to Avonlea City," Jeff said. "It's where I'm going. They're having a big fair there in a week. Should be fun. Is that why you're here?"

Rumple immediately became evasive. "Could be." He thought that maybe he could set up shop in the city, visit the local Wool Merchant's Guild, and establish his credentials as a spinner there. Despite his newfound magical powers, he wasn't about to rely on them to earn his living.

"Mind if we come along then? It's always better to have traveling companions on the road," Jefferson said.

_Rumple, you want me to travel with a **cat**? _Arrow grunted, sounding disgusted.

_Like I want to walk beside this hairy drooling carpet,_ Dizzy meowed.

_Who asked you, kitty?_ Arrow snorted.

_Cats rule and dogs drool, _the Cheshire cat singsonged.

"Dizzy!" Jefferson sighed. "You gotta excuse him. He's a cat, they've got no manners."

_Typical,_ Arrow half-growled.

_Shut up, furball!_ Dizzy yowled, and jumped to the ground.

"Hey! If we're going to be traveling together, you two had better quit quarreling with each other," Rumple said. "Now call a truce."

"I doubt they can. They're a dog and cat, after all," Jefferson said. "Unless you can magic them friends."

"I can't make them like each other," Rumple said, knowing that was true without knowing how. "But even enemies can tolerate each other."

_Do I have to, Rumple?_ Arrow groaned.

"Yes, dearie. So you don't drive me mad. I really don't think you want that, do you?" the sorcerer asked.

_No. That'd be worse than the Cheshire kitty. All right. Truce, cat?_

Dizzy wound himself about Jefferson's boots, purring. _I'll think about it._

"Dizzy!" Jefferson scolded.

_What? I'm a cat, Hatter. I go where I want and do what I want. You want me to behave like the drooling canine over there, get yourself a collie. But . . . I'll consider it._ The Cheshire cat flipped his tail insolently and hopped onto a rock, sitting like a statue.

"I'm afraid that's the best you're going to get out of him," Jefferson sighed.

_Cats don't know the meaning of honor, _Arrow declared.

_Look who's talking, big bad wolf!_ Dizzy growled, lashing his tail.

"Soon none of you will be talking, because I'm going to magic your mouth shut," Rumple threatened.

"Papa, can you do that?" Val whispered.

"Gods know, dearie. But I'll try if they keep bickering like a pair of five-year-olds," Rumple murmured.

_I'm going to hunt, Rumple. I'll find you when you make camp,_ Arrow sent, then trotted off into the brush.

Dizzy yawned and then jumped to Jefferson's shoulder.

Jefferson craned his head about. "What do I look like, a carriage?"

_I don't feel like walking. And you have two good legs, unlike master magister over there._

"You've got four. Until I break one," Jefferson growled.

_You get up on the wrong side of the bed? Don't be such a grouch!_ The cat purred.

"I . . . can carry him, Jefferson," said Bae quietly.

"Uh, he's a little big, kid," Jeff said.

"So? I can do it. I'm strong for my age. Right, Papa?"

"He is, actually," Rumple said proudly.

Before Jefferson could reply, Dizzy suddenly jumped off his shoulder and into Bae's arms. The cat began to purr and his mouth stretched into a wide grin. Bae laughed and petted the soft fur. Then he started to walk down the trail again, holding the cat in his arms.

_Come on, people! What are you waiting for, the new year?_ Dizzy queried, wrapping his tail around Bae's waist.

"Bae, can I pet him?" Val asked, running up next to him.

_Sure you can, little mage,_ Dizzy said. _I like to be scratched around the ears._

"Huh. Never saw Dizzy take to anybody like that," Jefferson mused.

"My son likes animals. Actually, they both do," Rumple said. He dug in his pocket and pulled out a granola bar. "Want one?"

Jefferson peered at it. "What is it?"

"It's called . . . a granola bar. It's made with oats and honey. It's quite tasty."

Jefferson took it and bit into it. "Mmm. This is great! Much better than journey bread and jerky."

Rumple pulled out another one and began to eat it as he walked beside Jefferson, thinking that maybe with these new traveling companions, this trip wouldn't be as monotonous as he'd feared.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

_Avonlea City:_

Belle placed her astronomy book on her windowsill and aligned her telescope, then peered through it at the current arrangement of stars in the night sky. After looking at the constellations for several minutes, she withdrew and stared out across the courtyard of her father's summer palace. The stars were in an odd position tonight, she thought, and looked up their arrangement in her book.

"The constellation represented by this grouping is called . . . The Magician," Belle read aloud. "It signifies change and upheaval and also new beginnings. Huh. I wonder what that means." She shut the book and withdrew from the window, pulling the telescope inside as she did so and shutting the glass casement.

She smoothed the front of her silk dressing gown and headed over to her bed, a thick canopied gold affair with several plump pillows and a down comforter. As she sat on the bed, running her fingers through her long dark hair, she thought about what the stars might portend. "A new beginning," she mused. "I wish that were so. I wish Father never arranged this stupid date tomorrow with Sir Gaston. He's such an arrogant prig! I'll bet if I stuck him with a pin, he'd pop just like a balloon."

She knew that many of the ladies at court would give their right arms to go on a picnic with Gaston, he was handsome and charming . . . as long as the subject was himself and his deeds. But he bored Belle to tears, and she would have rather spent tomorrow afternoon in the King's Library, reading. Gaston didn't even look like he knew how to read, even though she knew he must, since education for nobles was compulsory in Avonlea.

"I'll bet the only books he reads are the kind with pictures," she snorted. "Or mirrors. Oh, Father! Why couldn't you arrange a meeting with someone who at least knows the alphabet? Or something besides ten ways to skin a wyvern. I'm going to be bored to tears, I just know it. Maybe if I take along a book, I can stay awake."

She sighed, because she knew this arrangement was partially her own fault. She was twenty and still unmarried because she was a bookworm and picky about her suitors. And she knew her father was worried that his only daughter and heir wouldn't marry without some encouragement, and thus give Avonlea another heir.

"But really, there _must_ be someone else besides Gaston!" she groaned, then pulled back her covers and got into bed.

She wasn't looking forward at all to tomorrow, and wondered if she could plead something like a headache or some female trouble to get out of this picnic with Sir Dull and Deadly Boring. Then she could slip off and hide in the library. Books had always been her friends, more so than people.

Sighing, she closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep. The Magician, she thought sleepily. If the constellation was right, then she hoped whatever change it brought was good.

**A/N: So how did you like Jeff's appearance here? And Dizzy? And finally, here's Belle! What did you think of her?**


	27. Fateful Encounter

**27**

**Fateful Encounter**

It was growing onto dusk when Jefferson and Rumple decided it was time to stop for the night. Rumple's bad leg was stiffening and aching, despite his staff, and he knew it was time to rest it, before he caused it to go into spasms. It was times like this that he longed to be back at the cabin in New York, with its wonderful hot tub that restored his leg to almost normal functionality again.

Jefferson looked at his companion, limping along, his mouth pursed and lines of pain drawn on his slender cheeks, and asked, "Hey, buddy. If you need to rest, just tell me."

"All right. I think . . . I think that's a good idea," Rumple said through gritted teeth.

"Mind if I ask how you hurt it?"

Rumple shook his head. "It was during the wars."

"Oh. I see," Jeff said sympathetically. "Hey, kids! Let's stop and make camp for tonight," he called to Bae and Val, who were skipping slightly ahead of them.

"Okay!" Bae called back, and the two children turned around and came back to the two adults, Bae still carrying Dizzy, who was snoozing happily in his arms. Bae gently set the Cheshire cat down on some moss and Val dragged her suitcase over to where Rumple was kneeling and going through his pack.

She whispered something in his ear, and he nodded. "In the suitcase, dearie. Hold on a minute and I'll come with you."

Val went and unzipped the front pocket and pulled out a plastic bag of tissues. Then she waited while Rumple eased himself to his feet and followed her into the bushes. He turned his back and waited calmly while she relieved herself and used the tissues before going back to camp, where Jefferson had cleared a spot for a fire and started setting out a ring of rocks.

"Val, Bae, why don't you go and gather some sticks for the fire?" Rumple suggested. Then he called Arrow in his mind. Soon the big wolf had returned to his side. "Arrow, go with them."

Arrow whuffed an affirmative and then followed closely as the two children went into the trees and gathered armfuls of deadwood and pieces of dry brush to start a fire with.

Once they had returned with the wood, Jefferson withdrew some flint and steel from his pocket and prepared to start a fire with it.

"Wait, Jeff," Rumple called. "Let me try something first."

"Your magic?" queried Jefferson.

Rumple extended a hand over the piled brush and sticks, then willed a fire to start among them. It took a single instant of concentration and then fire bloomed like a red flower among the dry sticks. The sorcerer smiled in triumph. "There! I did it. Just like the last few times."

"You seem surprised. Can't all sorcerers summon fire?" queried Jefferson.

"I suppose so, but I'm not sure. You see, I've only recently discovered my magic, so I'm learning as I go along," Rumple explained. "It's a little . . . confusing."

"Sounds like you need a teacher. Maybe you can find someone in Avonlea City," Jefferson said, stretching his legs out towards the flames.

"Papa, can we make S'mores?" asked Val.

"Yeah, I wanna try them. Val brought marshmallows and chocolate and umm . . . what else do you use, Val?"

"Graham crackers," she answered. "And we got some sticks too." She displayed four long sticks proudly.

"What in the gods' name are S'mores?" asked Jefferson.

"Dessert," answered Rumple. "We'll make them after dinner, dearies. But first we need real food."

"Like peanut butter and jam sandwiches!" Bae cried.

"And Kool Aid!" Val sang.

"What's that? Some kind of . . . magic food?" Jefferson asked.

"No. It's just food. From New York, where we came from," Val explained, opening the suitcase and taking out some bread, the jar of Jif, and a few small tins of jam as well as a butter knife from the DeLuca's kitchen. "Here, Bae. You do the jam and I'll do the peanut butter."

Bae took the bread and removed four slices from the bag and then handed it to Val. As he began to spread jam on the bread, he started singing the Welch's grape juice commercial.

Val joined him, then sang, "Choosy moms choose Jif!" as she spread peanut butter on her slices of bread.

Jefferson stared at them. "Uh . . . what are they doing?"

"Quoting TV commercials," Rumple replied. "TV's like a magic box and thank the gods we don't have it here with us anymore!"

"Why? Does it like steal kids' souls or something?" Jeff asked.

"Worse. It makes them into slaves and zombies," Rumple replied.

"How horrible!"

"Well, it can be," the sorcerer said. "Just be glad we don't have it here. The amount of quarrels I had to break up . . ."

The two children finished making the sandwiches and served one to each adult along with some red Kool Aid they mixed with water into their canteens. They also had some bags of trail mix and they added that along with the sandwiches.

Jefferson sniffed his. "Okay, what's this?"

"A peanut butter and jelly sandwich," Bae told him. "Eat it. It's really good."

Jefferson took a bite. A delighted expression spread across his face. "Mmm! This is good!" Then he drank some of the Kool Aid. "So's this. Tastes like fruit."

As they were eating, Dizzy woke and came over to Jeff, meowing. The adventurer stroked the Cheshire cat and then rummaged in his pack for a small can that opened with a tiny key. Inside was some tuna in water that he gave to Dizzy.

"Cheshire cats can eat a lot of things, but he likes tuna best," Jeff said, eating his trail mix. "You guys have some strange food, but it's really good!"

"Wait'll you taste S'mores, Jeff," Val said excitedly.

Together with Rumple helping, they made them, and sang silly songs while they held them over the campfire.

Jefferson just watched them in amazement. He'd been with many companions on the road before, but he'd never met anyone like these three. They were a most unusual family, and not just because they had different food they ate. He'd never seen a father who acted like Rumplestiltskin, who managed to get obedience from his children without barking orders at them, and who actually seemed to have fun being with them. The spinner teased and joked with his children, and they took turns sitting on his lap, eating the delicious treat, and he didn't seem to mind when Bae's S'more dripped all over his tunic, or Val gave him a kiss that put gooey marshmallow all over his cheek.

Jeff thought of his own father, always away but when he had been home, all he'd wanted to do was spend time at the tavern and he'd never had time for a little boy's questions. He'd always shooed Jeff away. Rumple didn't. Clearly he liked being with his children and Jeff could see quite plainly that they loved each other, and it was a love that was open and not hidden away, a love that was shown in easy gestures and smiles, that glittered in the eyes of the children and their father. It made Jeff feel oddly . . . bereft, that he'd never known such love from his own parent.

"Papa, my hair's all sticky," Val complained, having got some marshmallow in it.

"Let's see if I can get it out. Where's your brush?" he asked.

"In my suitcase."

Rumple summoned the brush and then tried to get the sticky mess out of her hair, thinking it was too bad he couldn't wash it.

_Just use magic, Rumple,_ Arrow suggested, coming in to lie by them.

"Right." He took the piece of hair in his hand, and gestured with his other hand and wisps of purple energy drifted about it and then Val's hair was no longer sticky. Pleased, he said, "Okay, you two. Go wash up and get ready for bed."

"Papa, I'm not tired!" Bae protested.

"Me neither," seconded Val. "Let's eat some more S'mores."

"No. You've had enough. Now go on, and no whining. Or else no bedtime story," Rumple said firmly.

Jeff watched as the two immediately quit complaining and went to do as he'd said.

After Rumple had read to them and tucked them into their bedrolls with Arrow lying inbetween them, Jeff said to the spinner, "You know, you're very . . . patient with them."

Rumple looked at the other man and said, "They're good kids and they've been through a rough time lately."

"Your wife . . . did she die?" Jeff asked cautiously.

"No. She ran off with a buccaneer. But it was probably better that way. Milah was a difficult woman to love. She wasn't kind to my children. That's part of the reason we're here. To make a fresh start," Rumple told him.

"That's always a good thing," Jefferson said. "Done that myself lots of times." He sucked some chocolate off his fingers. "Hey, got anymore of those . . . S'more things?"

"Let me see if there are any more marshmallows," Rumple chuckled, and then he began to make two more. "So . . . have you seen many different lands?"

"Um . . . yeah. I've traveled quite a bit these past years. I've never liked staying in one place for long. Guess that's the wanderer in me," Jeff said, twirling his hat in his hands.

"Or maybe . . . you haven't found a reason to stay," Rumple said, handing him another S'more.

"Maybe. We ought to reach Avonlea by tomorrow."

"Good. And this fair, when is it?"

"'Bout a week from now, I believe. It's an annual thing. Ought to be fun," Jeff said, toasting his S'More.

Rumple nodded, staring into the flames. He hoped he'd be able to secure lodgings and a stall by then so he could sell some thread and cloth. He still had some money left, but he knew things were pricy in the city and he needed to make more soon. But then, as a master spinner, he shouldn't have much trouble establishing his credentials with the Wool Merchant Guild. And perhaps he could also find a tutor and get some kind of instruction for his wild talent.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

_The next afternoon:_

Belle stifled a yawn as she sat in the grass beside the babbling brook in the clearing of the high meadow in Silverwood. She was glad now she'd brought along that book of sonnets, because as she'd predicted, she was bored within an hour's time. The picnic lunch the palace cook, Mistress Tibbens, had packed was enough for four people, despite the fact that Gaston ate like there was no tomorrow. In contrast, Belle picked at her food, the company putting her off her appetite.

She was dressed in a blue riding habit of expensive velvet and taffeta, with a hat on her unruly hair, which hung almost to her back. She toyed nervously with the cameo pendant on her bodice, and wished she was back at Avonlea City, reading a good book in the King's Library, which was huge library for all the people in the city, to encourage learning and appreciation ofliterature. There were books of all sorts in there, and scrolls as well, books written in other languages, stories, treatises, law books and histories, even some magical texts in the section reserved only for mages, which required a special key from archmagus Gwydion, Maurice's court wizard, to enter.

Gaston belched loudly, stretched out on the blanket in front of her, his lean frame encased in silk and leather. He wore leather breeches that showed off every curve of his muscular legs and dragonhide boots and a silk shirt and leather padded gambeson with a fine cloak of red satin lined with cloth of gold. His wavy dark hair fell over one eyebrow, and those eyes surreptitiously ran over her. "Pray excuse me, Your Grace. But your chef is the finest cook in seven kingdoms." He made a languid gesture with one large hand.

"Yes, Mistress Tibbons is a great cook," Belle agreed, wanting to ask if she ought to stick out her tongue, since he was examining her like a horse he was going to buy at the market. "Would you like to . . . um . . . hear some sonnets?"

"You mean . . . poetry?" Gaston said, sounding as if it were a foreign word.

"Umm . . . yes, poetry can be very . . . enlightening . . ." she began.

He snorted, sounding like a disgruntled pig. "No thanks, Your Grace. Poetry's for scribes and weaklings. Or women. Now give me a story about a hunt, a story where they have to track a monster through the wilderness and slay it with one blow of a sword, and its entrails are spilling all over the ground . . . now _that's_ a story!"

Belle looked sick. "Umm . . . well . . ." In her head, she cursed her father for pairing her with this . . . this bloodthirsty idiot.

"In fact, I'm rather bored, _ma petit_ Belle, so what say you to a ride? We might find a hart to chase while we're going along," Gaston said, giving her his signature grin, which had never failed him yet where a lady was concerned.

"You . . . want me to go and . . . hunt with you?" Belle stammered. "But I don't even have a bow."

"That's all right, princess. You're basically along to watch me bring down a buck and cheer me on," Gaston boasted. "See? I brought my bow along just in case. And my knife too." He pointed to where their horses grazed and on his saddle bow was his bow and quiver.

Belle rolled her eyes heavenward. _Oh joy._ "Umm . . . okay. Let me just pack up the basket."

"Right. You do that and I'll saddle the horses," Gaston said, rising from the ground in one silent movement, like a beast about to pounce.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Val and Bae were walking along just ahead of Jefferson and Rumple, singing little snatches of their favorite cartoon theme songs, while Dizzy rode on Jeff's shoulder and Arrow ranged further out beyond the trees.

A small deer raced across the path, and Val squealed, "Look, Bae! It's Bambi!"

Suddenly, the sound of hoofbeats was heard and a roan horse burst out of the trees, blowing hard, the rider on his back holding an arrow half-nocked. Further back was his companion, a lady in a blue riding habit on a chestnut mare.

Horse and rider thundered across the road, with no care for the children standing there.

"Val, run!" Bae yelled upon seeing the deadly hooves coming at them, and he dragged his friend out of the way just as the horse thundered by, sideswiping them and knocking them sprawling in the dirt.

"Gaston!" Belle screamed. "Be careful! There are children!"

But Gaston only knew that he was losing his quarry and he shouted, "Damn peasant brats!"

"Hey!" Rumple shouted, running over to his children, who were whimpering and crying. "You stupid idiot, you almost ran over my kids!" He knelt and hugged them. "Are you hurt? Bae, Val, are you okay?"

Gaston looked back once and shouted, "Next time, peasant, tell your brats to stay off the road!"

Now normally, Rumple would have backed down, knowing this was a noble, and what power they could wield over him and his, but this time he was furious over the disregard the big ape had shown his precious children, riding them down like they were stones in his path, without even an apology for nearly trampling them.

His temper got the better of him then, and he thrust out his hand and gestured sharply.

"Get back here, you horse's ass, and apologize to my children!" he growled.

Gaston found himself yanked off his horse and dragged through the air then abruptly dumped into the road on his backside. "Huh?"

He looked up . . . and his eyes met those of Rumplestiltskin's . . . and then he heard Belle's merry laughter as she witnessed his humiliation and he turned red and grabbed for his sword.


	28. Meeting of Like Minds

**28**

**Meeting of Like Minds**

"Hey, buddy, maybe you ought to watch where you're riding?" Jefferson said, annoyed at the way this guy was just ignoring the fact that he'd almost run down two kids who were doing nothing more than walking in a public thoroughfare.

Gaston spun on him. "And maybe you'd better mind your own business!" he snarled. "Do you have any idea who I am?" His whole chest puffed up arrogantly.

Before Jefferson could reply, Dizzy responded, _Some loudmouthed cousin to a bloodhound who's about to get his ass kicked by one pissed off sorcerer, that's who._

Gaston's eyes narrowed. "For your information, _I_ am Sir Gaston, Lord of Lyonesse, knight of Avonlea, champion of three tournaments, the finest warrior ever to be seen in King Maurice's court, and if you don't shut that pink monstrosity up, I will—with my sword!" He rattled it convincingly. Then he whirled back to confront Rumplestiltskin and his two children. "As for you, you crippled conjurer—"

"Hey! Don't you be calling my papa a cripple!" Bae shouted, glaring at the other man.

"Be quiet, you little brat! You're nothing but peasant trash who needs a good beating to teach you respect for your betters," Gaston growled.

"Touch my son and you'll be missing a hand," Rumple declared icily.

"Gaston, leave them alone!" Belle ordered. "They've done nothing. It was your fault—"

"Stay out of this, Belle! When a noble is in pursuit of quarry, he _always_ has the right of way," declared Gaston arrogantly. "I am a great hunter and I was in pursuit of that deer—"

"Y'mean, you were gonna _kill_ it?" Val cried, horrified. "Papa, he was gonna _kill_ Bambi! You oughta hex his hands off for being mean to helpless animals."

"You know, the penalty for assaulting a noble is five days in jail," Gaston said menacingly. "Or I could have you flogged . . . sorcerer!"

"Hey, now let's not be hasty—" Jefferson began.

"Gaston!" Belle snapped. "You're abusing your privilege of rank. Is this how you were brought up, to tyrannize people?"

Gaston stiffened. "My mother taught me that my birthright entitled me to respect, and as I am this kingdom's premier knight _and_ your escort, this peasant ought to be on his knees at my feet, begging my pardon and kissing my boot!"

Bae gasped, his eyes wide, and shrank back against Rumple.

"You will not!" Belle snapped, disgusted. "I forbid it!"

"_Ma petite_, you're not queen yet and you ought to be guided by those older and wiser, like me, as is proper for a well-brought up lady," Gaston began. "_I_ know how to handle these insolent commoners, my mother taught me well—"

"Then she must have been an awful mother," Bae retorted. "Cause you're nasty as hell."

"Yeah and you know what else?" Val chimed in. "Your mama might have loved you, but everyone else thinks you're an asshole."

_Burned by a six-year-old! _ Dizzy yowled, then burst out laughing.

So did Belle and Jefferson.

Gaston turned beet red.

"Valentina! Baelfire! Watch your mouths!" Rumple half-scolded, trying not to laugh himself.

"Nobody makes fun of me!" the irate nobleman bellowed, and started forward, his hands reaching out to grab the children. "Clearly these brats need a lesson in manners that you haven't given them, hedge mage!"

Rumple put out a hand and Gaston slammed right into an invisible wall, staggering backwards to fall on the ground for the second time that afternoon.

Dizzy almost fell off Jefferson's shoulder, he was laughing so hard. _Another one bites the dust, yeeaah!_

"I warned you to leave my children alone," Rumple snapped. "All I want is an apology for almost running them over—"

"Over my dead body!" Gaston cried, his blood boiling. He started to get to his feet, pulling his sword from his sheath as he did so.

Belle stepped in front of him, her arms held out. "Put it away, Gaston! As your future queen, I command it!" she ordered sharply. "I don't need anyone, especially _you_, telling me how to act. Now, if you won't do the right thing and apologize for almost killing these poor children, then you're going to leave them and their father be. Am I clear?"

"Belle, this impudent commoner needs—" Gaston sputtered, reluctantly sheathing his sword.

"—to be left in peace," she interrupted him. "Your quarry is getting away, mighty hunter," she reminded him in a flash of inspiration. "If you don't hurry, you'll lose it . . . and your chance to boast about it to the rest of the court tonight at dinner."

"I've never lost a quarry," Gaston bragged. He jumped to his feet, then looked around for his horse. "Damn and blast! Tornado!" he shouted, and whistled shrilly for his mount.

"I think he went that way," Jefferson pointed helpfully into the trees on the other side of the road.

Gaston ran into the trees, still whistling for his missing horse.

_By the time you find that horse, idiot, your quarry will be on the other side of the kingdom, teehee!_ Dizzy chortled. He wore a grin that stretched from one pointed ear to the other.

"I wish I could be that lucky," Belle sighed, then she colored a becoming rose and said, "Please, excuse me, we haven't been properly introduced. I'm Belle, daughter of Maurice . . . princess of Avonlea."

"Jefferson Hatter, adventurer, Your Grace, and procurer of magical objects, pleased to meet you. And this is Dizzy, my Cheshire cat companion." He bowed to her.

"Charmed, Master Hatter. And you too, Dizzy," Belle said, smiling.

_I am always thrilled to make the acquaintance of a lovely lady, _the Cheshire cat grinned.

"And you are, master sorcerer?" Belle turned to look at Rumple.

"Rumplestitskin, Your Grace, master spinner and weaver and only recently a sorcerer, at your service," Rumple said, and bowed politely to her. He gestured to the children beside him. "And these are my children, Baelfire and Valentina. What do you say, children?"

"Pleased to meet you, Your Grace," Bae replied, imitating his father and giving her a small bow.

"Pleased to meet you, Your Highness," Val said a second later. Then she looked at Baelfire and asked, "Bae, why'd you call her Grace? I thought her name was Belle."

"My name _is_ Belle, little one," Belle chuckled. "Your Grace is just a title, and not one that I use all that often. Valentina, what an unusual name you have."

"My mama gave it to me. After my grandma, but you can just call me Val. Everyone does," the little girl said, smiling. "Are you really a princess? 'Cause you have the same name as Belle in _Beauty and the Beast_."

"I do? And what's this . . . _Beauty and the Beast_?" Belle asked, smiling back at her.

"It's a folk tale, Your Grace," Rumple explained. "From the realm of New York, where we came from."

"Papa has the story in his backpack," Val said excitedly. "Have you ever read it? It's the most wonderful story, about a prince that was cursed into a beast 'cause he was mean and nasty and in order to break the curse, he had to get a girl to fall in love with him before the last petal of a rose fell, or else he was doomed to remain a beast forever."

"So he makes a deal with Belle's papa, and he drags her off to his castle," Bae continued the familiar tale. "And he makes her his servant there and at first she hates it, since he's all growly and stuff, but then she starts to look with her heart and not with her eyes, and she sees something there that wasn't there before. Oh, and the furniture talks."

Belle's eyes sparkled. "That sounds like a fascinating tale."

"It is . . . if you haven't heard it for the fiftieth time," Rumple said.

"Do you like to read then?" Belle asked.

"We love to!" Val declared brightly. "Only I can't read all the long words yet, but Papa can. He's the smartest man in the world!"

"I just learned how," Bae said diffidently. "But I practice every night. Papa taught me when we were up in New York."

"You're a man of many talents, Rumplestiltskin," Belle said appreciatively, wondering if she'd finally met a man who could do more than swing a sword and make small talk about a lady's eyes.

Rumple found himself blushing under her regard. "Umm . . . not really, Your Grace. I'm just a spinner. I was taught to read by my aunt, she was a schoolteacher. She insisted that I be able to read, write, and figure though I was just a spinner's son."

"Here in Avonlea, an education is compulsory for everyone until they're fourteen. Eighteen for nobles," Belle said. "We believe the greatest gift you can give someone is knowledge. It's why we have the King's Library."

"You have a _library_ here?" Val gasped, enraptured. "Do they have books for kids?"

"They have many books," Belle told her. "Thousands and thousands of them. And it's open to anyone who wants to read them. You just have to get a library card."

"Cool!" Val was almost jumping up and down. "Papa, we _have_ to go there! Like right away!"

"Val, first we need to find a place to stay and then we can visit the library," Rumple said, chuckling at his bookworm's enthusiasm.

"I can help you with that," Belle said quickly. "Go to an inn called _The King's Rest_ when you reach the city and give the owner, a Master Pritchard, this token," she fished a round ivory disk with a stamp of King Maurice on it and on the obverse side the number 3 written in gold ink. "It shows you're my guest and are entitled to a three week stay free of charge and supper thrown into the bargain. That should be sufficient until you find a more permanent residence, master spinner."

Rumple stared at the token for a moment before he put it in his pocket. "You are most kind, Your Grace. Most kind, thank you."

"It's the least I can do, after my buffoon of an escort nearly trampled your children," Belle said. "I'm so sorry . . . Gaston gives all of us highborns a bad name. Not all of us believe that commoners shoulder be treated like chattel. Especially not me."

"Liberty and justice for all, right?" Val quoted, her green eyes bright with hero-worship.

Belle turned to her. "Yes, that's what I wish for everyone in my kingdom. But . . . I'm afraid there are many people like Gaston who don't think so."

"Then they're idiots," Bae declared firmly.

"I quite agree, Baelfire," Belle chuckled.

"Just call me Bae," the little boy said. "And you can call my papa Rumple. All our friends do."

"Bae, she hardly knows us to be so informal, much less to claim us as friends . . ." Rumple began awkwardly, fearing his son had overstepped.

"Please. I would _love_ for us to be friends," Belle cut in swiftly. "There are so few people at court who . . . enjoy books and intellectual pursuits the way I do. . . if you wouldn't mind, that is?"

"Me? Mind?" Rumple stammered. "Of course not, Your Grace. I . . . would be honored."

"Then . . . if we're to be friends . . . don't call me Your Grace," Belle stated. "Friends don't have titles between them."

"But you're a princess!"

"Only when I've got a tiara on my head and am in the throne room," Belle said softly. "Out here, I'm just like you. Or at least . . . that's how I would like to be treated. So . . . please call me Belle . . . Rumple."

"I . . . err . . . okay, Your—Belle," Rumple said, hastily correcting himself. "If that's the way you want it."

"I do," she assured him. Then she giggled, her blue eyes sparkling. "You know, you're the first friend I've ever had that wasn't . . . handpicked by my father from all his noble acquaintances. It's so . . . refreshing!"

Rumple blushed and studied his feet, not knowing how to respond. No woman had ever found his company . . . refreshing before. Not even Milah, when they were first dating. She had told him point blank she was only going out with him because her father had made an arrangement with his aunt, and at least he knew a decent trade and wasn't old or ugly. "Th-thank you, Belle. I'll . . . strive to be worthy of your acquaintance, dearie." Then he flushed and whispered, "Forgive me, that's just how the people in my village address each other . . . local custom, you know . . ." _What are you thinking of, you fool?_ He scolded himself mentally. _Talking to a princess of the realm like she was Rachel Tyrell down the road!_

"It's charming," Belle hastened to assure him. "Please, call me whatever you're comfortable with. I get so _tired_ of all the bowing and scraping and miladying sometimes. I'm your friend, Rumple . . . so treat me like it."

"Okay . . . Belle," he said shyly, and looked up into her face, which was as beautiful as a spring morning.

"Good. Now, unfortunately, I have to be getting back to the palace. It's almost time for me to get changed for dinner, so . . ." Belle sighed. "But . . . why don't we arrange to meet in the library say . . . next Monday at . . . three o'clock in the afternoon? Would that be okay?"

"Yes. Yes, of course. Three o'clock it is."

"We can meet by the statue of Griselda the Wise, in the courtyard," Belle said happily. She would have to plan her schedule carefully that day and ensure she was free in the afternoon. Then she turned to mount her horse, and saw the picnic basket still tied to her saddle. "Here. Take this, it's some food from the picnic lunch my cook packed. I don't need it and you can all share it. And then I'll have an excuse to meet you again." She untied the picnic basket and handed it to Rumple.

"Belle, you don't have to . . . err . . ." Rumple began.

"But I want to. After all, what are friends for?" she insisted, pressing the basket, which was half filled with food, into his hands. Then she mounted her horse in one graceful leap and gathered the reins in her hands. "Goodbye! I'll see you on Monday!" She clucked to her mare, then waved before she rode away.

Jefferson whistled. "Boy, you sure have the luck! Play your cards right, Rumple and you could end up with her on your arm."

"That'll never happen, Jeff," Rumple disagreed. "Do you forget what we are? She's a royal and I'm just a peasant. We can be friends, but never more than that."

"But she likes you, Rumple . . ."

"She likes the fact that I'm educated and she's lonely," Rumple snorted. "I'm a curiosity to her, not a prospective husband."

"Rumple, give yourself a chance. You never know," Jefferson said.

"I know enough about the world to know it's impossible for us to ever be together. That's not how it works," he said dismissively. "This isn't a storybook, and I'm not a hero to win the heart of a fair lady. I'm just a spinner who likes books and can do a bit of magic. That's all."

Before Jeff could say anything else, Arrow appeared from the thicket on the opposite side of the road. _Rumple, who was here? I smell someone new._

"Where were you while my kids were almost trampled by that fool Gaston, Arrow?" Rumple demanded testily.

The grimm wolf flattened his ears guiltily. _Uh . . . I was hunting . . . there was this deer . . . and I lost track of time . . . sorry, Rumple. What happened?_

"Nothing I couldn't handle," the sorcerer sighed.

_You missed the best fight ever, wolf!_ Dizzy crowed. _And the best put down in history too!_

Arrow walked over to stand before his sorcerer. _Are the pups okay? Why didn't you call me back, Rumple?_

"They're fine and I just . . . everything happened so fast . . ." Rumple hitched the picnic basket higher on his shoulder and began to tell Arrow about Belle and Gaston as they continued down the road.

Bae tugged on his sleeve. "Papa, my feet hurt. I'm tired."

"Me too," Val whined.

_Put them on my back, Rumple,_ the grimm wolf ordered. _Let me carry them awhile. It's no trouble._

"All right, if you're sure . . . children, come here. Arrow says he can carry you for a bit . . . until we find a spot to stop for lunch and we can see what Belle gave us in the picnic basket." He picked up Val first, and then Bae, and set them upon Arrow's broad back.

The grimm wolf trotted easily down the road, listening to Rumple describing the encounter he'd had with Belle and Gaston, while Jefferson walked alongside with Dizzy, whistling an old marching tune.

Meanwhile, Belle arrived back at the palace and as she unsaddled her horse, she thought about the meeting with Rumplestiltskin and her heart soared with joy. _My first real friend . . . one that I made myself, that didn't owe some favor to my father, and isn't some noble out to make a name for herself by being noticed by the princess. _As she curried her mare down, she thought again about the constellation she had seen in the night sky. _The Magician. Portent of change and surprises. Now I'm friends with one. And what things shall change because of it?_

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed this first meeting between them. Who thinks Gaston is going to be trouble with a capital T?**

**Also, if you're reading my new short story, Gold's Gift, I have a new chapter posted!**

**Thanks to all my readers for sticking with me, as always!**


	29. Portents and Daydreams

**29**

**Portents and Daydreams**

Jefferson said it would probably take the rest of the day to reach Avonlea City, since they had been so rudely interrupted by Gaston. When Rumple heard that, he said they ought to stop for the night, since he was feeling oddly exhausted, as if he'd stayed up three days straight spinning. He kept feeling his eyes long to close, like they were filled with sand, and his leg throbbed and ached like seven hells. His grip on his staff was white knuckled and hard, for he knew if he didn't hold on, he'd find himself in the dust when his leg gave out.

But despite the exhaustion he was feeling, the master spinner found he was also feeling rather giddy from meeting Princess Belle. Belle's smile enchanted him, the way she had stared at him, as if he were someone who mattered, as if he were nobility, and not just a master spinner and an ordinary man, made his heart suddenly skip several beats. Her lovely blue eyes, so filled with concern for him and his children-mere strangers, yet she had treated them with kindness and respect-made him ache in places he'd not done so in years. The unaccustomed blaze of desire that accompanied his sudden recollection of her made him blush red as a sunset.

_Stop it!_ he ordered himself sharply. _Stop thinking of her like that, you randy old goat! It can never be, not in a million lifetimes, so stop thinking that way. She can never be yours, she's a princess and you're just a commoner. You can have her friendship, and count yourself lucky she'd given you that much, Rumplestiltskin! You're not for the likes of her, cowardly cripple that you are, even if you do have magic. _

Arrow turned his head abruptly, as if he could sense Rumple's darkening mood, and gave a soft whine. _Rumple, do we need to stop now? You're in pain, I can feel it._

Rumple gritted his teeth and gave a slow imperceptible nod. Better now than later, when he collapsed.

Jefferson turned and said, "I'm kind of beat, so why don't we stop here for the night?"

Rumple nodded. "Yes, that's a good idea."

Jefferson, recognizing his companion was in pain, helped the kids set up camp while Rumple rested on a fallen log, refusing to let him do anything, even start the fire with magic.

The grimm wolf stretched out by his sorcerer's feet, and Rumple stroked the dark gray fur as he tried to massage the cramps out of his leg. "Why do I feel like an ogre just ran me over?"

_Magic's price, Rumple. You cast a come-hither spell and a shield spell in one afternoon. Strong as you are, you're not ready to do all that in one day. And your body's telling you so in no uncertain terms._

"That's what that spell I cast is called?" Rumple clarified. "The one I used to bring Gaston back to me?"

_Yes. Come-hither spells are similar to a spell of summoning, except they work on people and only for short distances. Some magicians use them as a means of corralling misbehaving children, so they don't need to chase the pups around to administer punishments, like a good smack with a paw._

Rumple started chuckling. "So . . . you're saying I . . . err . . . used the magical equivalent of taking some rotten brat by the collar and giving him a good spanking?"

Arrow grinned, and Dizzy spoke up from the other end of the log where he'd been sitting, _That's why I was laughing so hard, magician. Because you'd magically cuffed that arrogant snipe a good one . . . and he was too dumb to even realize just how badly he'd been humiliated. Next time he tries something with you, you ought to turn him upside down and paddle his rump!_

"Probably just what he needs and never got from his mother," Rumple said, his brown eyes twinkling.

Once the camp was set up, Jefferson portioned out what remained of Belle's picnic basket, and they all ate heartily of the delicious food, including a blackberry crumble. Rumple was so tired that Val read to Bae that night from the fairy tale book and he fell asleep before his children that night.

Seeing her papa shivering slightly in the cool night air, Val dragged her bedroll right next to him and crawled into it beside her father. On his other side, Bae did the same, until the three were all sleeping snuggled together in a heap, with the two children wrapping one arm each about Rumple.

By the light of the crackling fire, Jefferson observed this and felt rather envious. He'd never been able to do anything like that to his father when he was a child. And there had been times, not many, but there were some, that he'd have liked to. "Dizzy," he called, pulling his bedroll over him. Then he stopped. He couldn't believe he'd almost asked the Cheshire to come and _sleep_ by him, like a little kid afraid of the dark.

_Are you cold, Jeff?_ The cat queried with an uncanny intuition. _Or do you just want company?_

"Never mind," Jefferson said. Darn cat! It was like it could read his mind!

Suddenly he felt something warm across his knees as Dizzy settled atop the bedroll, and began to purr.

Jefferson was glad it was dark, because the night hid the flush creeping up his cheeks. He buried his face in his travel pillow, and closed his eyes, embarrassed but not about to shoo the cat away. He fell asleep to the Cheshire's soothing purring.

Dizzy dozed lightly and then the only one awake was Arrow, who sat alertly across the fire and watched his charges, making sure no predators approached his sleeping companions.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Rumple woke gasping and shaking and sat up, squinting in the dying embers of the fire. Beside him, Val and Bae slept, curled on their sides beneath their bedrolls, small hands resting on him. He sat up slowly, careful not to disturb his sleeping children, and thought again about the dream he'd had.

It had been the same dream he'd had back in New York, of himself and the blue-eyed dark-haired woman, mingling their blood and watching it drip onto the dagger, shattering the curse for all of time. Only now the woman's face beside his had a name.

_Belle._

She was the woman in the prophecy, the woman he was supposed to break the curse with. The woman he was supposed to _marry._

He almost laughed aloud at that thought. It just proved that this prophecy was just a dream. An unattainable one.

Jefferson stirred and looked over at Rumple. "Bad dream?"

"No. Not a nightmare," Rumple replied, yawning. "Just a dream . . . about a girl."

"Oh," Jefferson said, smirking knowingly. "One of those, huh? I've had a few myself."

"No," Rumple shook his head, blushing. "It wasn't . . . like _that_."

Jeff cocked an eyebrow. "Really? What happened, she run off?"

"No. We . . . uh . . . got married."

"Then it _was_ like that," Jeff said, his grin growing more pronounced. "Those are the best kind of dreams, buddy."

"You wouldn't understand . . ."

"Sure I do," the adventurer laughed. "It's okay, Rumple. We all get lonely sometimes."

"I'm not lonely," Rumple argued. "I've got two kids and a wolf."

"Yeah, but no woman," Jeff said. "Don't tell me you miss your wife."

Rumple snorted. "Hell, no. I was never so glad as when she got on that ship with that pirate. The way she treated my son . . . and even me . . . I'm well rid of her. This dream wasn't about her. Then it really _would_ be a nightmare."

_Did you have another Dream, Rumple?_ Arrow queried, his blue eyes reflecting an eerie red from the fire's glow.

"Be quiet, Arrow. All this Dreaming stuff's ridiculous," his wizard said. "It'll never happen."

"Wait a minute," Jefferson said, sitting up. "Is he talking about Seer Dreams? You've got the Gift?"

"No. What I've got is an overactive imagination," Rumple said sharply. "Arrow's the one who thinks I prophecy in Dreams."

"You don't think so? But you're a sorcerer!"

"So what? That doesn't mean I Dream true," Rumple said exasperatedly.

_You're in denial, magician, _Arrow stated, shaking his head.

"And _you're_ crazy! What I supposedly Saw _can't_ come true. It's just not possible. Now leave it alone," the sorcerer growled agitatedly.

"What did you See?" asked Jeff curiously.

"Nonsense," Rumple replied. "I really don't want to discuss it."

"Was it about that girl?" Jeff probed, unable to help himself.

"Go to sleep, Jeff," was all Rumple answered, then he nestled back into his bedroll and closed his eyes. But it took him several minutes before he fell asleep again, and in his dreams he danced with Belle across a polished marble floor, dressed in silken shirt and tight leather breeches, with her in a golden ball gown, and when she smiled at him, he fell hopelessly in love with her all over again.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

The four travelers reached Avonlea City around midmorning the following day. There was a lot of traffic along the main thoroughfare past the gates, and Rumple instructed Val and Bae to hold his hands or grab the straps on his pack so they wouldn't get separated. In this crushing morass of people, they could easily get lost.

Val clung to his hand, the one without the staff, like a limpet, her eyes wide and startled as she tried to take in everything around her, but she couldn't see much because of all the people. She felt like she did walking through certain sections of Manhattan with Mrs. DeLuca, like she was surrounded by endless rows of people. Only these people didn't have high heels or carry cell phones, and they smelled funny.

She wrinkled her nose and said, "Yuck! What's that smell?"

Rumple steered them carefully around a puddle of horse urine in the road, saying softly, "Just take a couple of deep breaths, dearie. You'll get used to it."

"Ugh! It smells like old people," his daughter complained.

"And horse poop," Bae added, he was clinging to Rumple's pack strap. "I saw a big bunch of it over there. Don't anybody clean up here? We'd never leave that in the street at home."

"It's a little different in the city, kid," Jeff said. "They don't have time to get to that stuff right away like they did in . . . where are you from again?"

"The Enchanted Forest," Bae replied. Then he started giggling and cried, "Hey, Val! I just saw some geezer peeing on that post over there."

"Gross!" Val yelled. "What's wrong with these people?"

"Baelfire," Rumple sighed. "Look at something else."

"Like what, Papa? There's nothing else to see but legs and other people's backsides," his son pointed out.

"It sucks being little," Val groaned.

"I know," Bae commiserated. "Papa, are we there yet?"

"Bae, please," his father huffed. "Don't ask that."

Finally the crowd began to thin out and Rumple could see several streets branching off the main one, with different signs advertising shops and businesses. He began looking for a sign for an inn called the _King's Rest,_ figuring that was the first thing they needed to do, find their lodgings.

Luckily, there was a large sign that said, Wayfarers Row, and Rumple turned down it, finding it was a street devoted to public houses and inns. He soon found a large building built of sturdy timbers and a tiled roof with a sign outside of a king sleeping in a bed and underneath were the words _The King's Rest._

"Here we are, dearies," said the spinner, drawing a huge sigh of relief.

He entered the large double doors of the inn, trailed by his children, Arrow, and Jefferson with Dizzy atop his shoulder.

The petite blond girl at the counter stared in amazement and said, "Uh, sir . . . you can't bring animals in here, especially not . . . wolves."

Rumple pulled his token out and handed it to her. "You see, dearie, I'm a . . . friend of Princess Belle, and that's not just an animal, he's my familiar."

The girl stared at the token and then at him and gasped, "You mean . . . you're a sorcerer?"

"I am, dearie. A master spinner too, and I have two small children to look after, so I'd appreciate it if you could show us to a room."

"Yeah, we're really tired," Bae said, coming up to peer at her over the top of the counter.

"And hungry," Val said, standing next to him, and she gave the girl her best puppydog look from her green eyes.

The blond woman was instantly charmed by the sight of the two little waifs and smiled at them. "Well . . . let me tell Master Pritchard and then I can see what we have available. The king's token entitles you to a free supper as well as lodgings." She looked over at Jefferson. "Would you like a room as well, sir?"

"He's with me," Rumple said quickly.

"Bodyguard," Jefferson added. "Me and . . . uh . . . my sword," he said lamely, as he realized that Dizzy had disappeared.

"Of course," the young woman said, coloring a little at the handsome adventurer. "Alice Pritchard, I'm Master Alex's daughter. Welcome to the King's Rest and I hope you have a pleasant stay."

She slipped out from behind the counter and stopped, staring at Arrow, who was sitting next to Jefferson. "He . . . doesn't bite, does he?"

"Only if you try and hurt one of us," Rumple reassured her.

"I've never seen a wolf that big before."

"He's a grimm wolf, dearie. They're all that big."

"His name's Arrow," Val said softly.

Alice smiled at her. "And what's your name, sweetie?"

"Valentina, but you can just call me Val."

"I'm Bae, that's Jeff, and this is my papa, Rumplestiltskin," Bae announced, completing the introductions.

Alice goggled. "R-Rumple-what?"

"Rumplestiltskin, dearie," the spinner said, enunciating his name clearly. "But you can call me Rumple, it's easier on the tongue."

"Okay. Be right back, sir," Alice said, and gave him a quick curtsy before dashing off down a small hallway in back of the counter.

Val tugged at his sleeve. "Papa? She seemed kinda . . . scared of you."

"Most people are scared of huge wolves, Val," Rumple told her softly.

"And sorcerers," Jeff added.

"How come? Arrow's a good wolf and Papa never hurt anybody with his magic," Val said, puzzled.

"But people don't know that, hon," Jeff said, kneeling down so he could speak to her. "All they see is a scary ass wolf with teeth the size of daggers and sorcerers—let's just say you never want one mad at you. Even if they're good ones."

"Oh." Val pondered that for a moment, then said, "People are silly." Then she went and leaned against Rumple's side.

Alice returned a few minutes later carrying two keys on a ring and a stack of clean towels. "Here you go, Master Rumple. Take the stairs and they're the first two rooms on the right—number 105 and 106. Here are some towels to wash up, and I'll send up a maid with some hot water in a flash. Oh, and some fruit and nuts too, for your children. If you need directions or anything, just ask me, I know how to get everywhere in the City, I've lived here all my life."

"How do we get to the library," Val blurted.

"Oh, you can't miss that. It's the huge white building right in the center of the city," Alice laughed.

"Thank you, dearie," Rumple said, and took the keys from her.

A younger girl with brunette hair came up, wearing a black and white uniform and a mobcap, and she curtseyed to them and said, "Marian, at your service, sirs. Let me get those for you," she took the towels from Alice and led the way up the stairs.

Rumple unlocked room 105 first, finding it was a rather large room with a single bed, a wardrobe, a worn desk with a chair, a large beveled window, a small table with a wash basin, and a small folding screen.

Marian set down the towels on the small table and said, "I'll be with your hot water right away, sir. The bed's got a trundle under it for your little ones, and the necessary's down the hall, first door on the left for men and opposite on the right for ladies. Err . . . you can read, right? Otherwise, there's pictures."

"Yes, dearie, we all can," Rumple assured her.

"Uh .. right. Umm . . . coming right up with your water, sir." Marian bobbed another curtsey then turned and hurried from the room.

"Here, Jeff," Rumple handed him the other key and a towel.

"Thanks. Let me just put my stuff down and I'll meet you back here. C'mon, Dizzy." Jefferson said, and he went next door to the other suite, finding it neatly appointed and very clean.

Rumple had just set his pack down next to Val's suitcase when Bae said, "Papa, I have to go potty."

"Okay, son. You too, Val?"

"Yeah. Let me get the tissues," the little girl said.

While Rumple took Bae to the men's bathroom, Arrow waited outside the ladies' room for Val.

During that time, Marian returned with some hot water in a kettle and a bowl of apples, grapes, and peaches, which she set on the table after pouring some water into the pitcher and arranging the towels and lemon scented bar of soap beside the basin.

She made sure the pillows on the bed were plumped up, and took out the extra blankets from the wardrobe and checked the level of oil in the lantern on the desk before she went next door to see to Jeff, thinking these were the most unusual guests the inn had had in a long time—a sorcerer, his wolf familiar, two kids, and his bodyguard. Who already had the regard of the royal family! Marian quivered suddenly with fear, and resolved to give them the best service possible, for she didn't want to end up on the street for displeasing a friend of the royal family, or turned into a toad either.

After they had all washed up and had some of the delicious fruit and drank some water from their canteens, Rumple suggested the children take a brief nap while he went to find the local chapter of the Weaver's Guild and establish his credential with them as a master.

"Aww, but Papa! We wanted to go to the library!" Val cried.

"Yeah, and I saw a puppet show near here," Bae said.

"Later we can do that, dearies. Right now I need to get myself established with this chapter of the Guild and get a spinning wheel so I can make a living," Rumple said firmly. "After all, we can't be depending on the kindness of strangers, even if they happen to be princesses."

The two children gave him disgruntled looks, but didn't protest any more, sensing they wouldn't get anywhere.

"I'll stay with them, Rumple," Jeff said. "Hey, kids. Why don't we play a game while we wait for your papa to get back? It's called I Spy."

Rumple flashed Jeff a grateful look and then he walked out, Arrow accompanying him.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Belle listened to the petitions in the audience chamber in the palace with half an ear that morning. Normally she enjoyed helping the people of her city resolve issues, but today she felt all distracted and out of sorts. She wondered if Rumple and his children had arrived in the City yet and if so, how they were doing.

She rubbed her chin, struggling to pay attention to what her father was saying to this latest petitioner, but her thoughts kept drifting back to Rumple, and the way the light caught his brown hair and his shy smile, that seemed to light up his whole face. She recalled how he had dumped Gaston, the arrogant fop, right on his ass, and bit back a giggle.

Maurice turned and frowned at her, and she quickly schooled her expression into more serious lines, but she was laughing behind her teeth, and her heart was doing funny leaps and twirls whenever she thought of the way Rumple had called her "dearie" with that charming country accent of his, so different from the flat correctly precise way those in the City spoke.

She could hardly wait until Monday, when she could slip off to the library and see him again, and she shook her head at her own whimsy, getting all excited like this over a man who was, by his own admission, just a spinner. She had danced with kings and princes, dukes and earls, and yet none of them had ever made her long to see them with this fierce delight.

What, she wondered, made Rumplestiltskin so different from all those others? What did this spinner and sorcerer have that they didn't? Belle couldn't wait to find out the answer to that question.

"Belle, what do you think of that ruling?" Maurice asked, he was a medium-sized man in his middle fifties with a round face and broad build.

"Huh? Sorry, Father. There was a fly buzzing around my ear. What did you say?"

Maurice sighed, wondering what book his daughter had been woolgathering about this time, and patiently reminded her of the petition they'd just heard and what ruling he had given.

This time Belle forced herself to pay attention, because making decisions was the heart of being a good ruler, and she would have plenty of time to daydream about the mysterious Rumplestiltskin in her room tonight before she went to sleep.


	30. Reading Material

**30**

**Reading Material**

Rumple made his way through the rather crowded city streets, Arrow trotting alongside him. The sight of the grimm wolf gave most people pause, and a few turned and ran when they saw the gigantic wolf, though Arrow didn't even glance at them. The wolf half-wrinkled his nose at the odors his sensitive nose was picking up, and kept up a running stream of complaints in Rumple's head as they maneuvered their way down the street towards Weaver's Row, where Rumple figured the Guild House was.

_This place stinks worse than day-old carrion. No wonder all you humans are nose blind. If you weren't you'd have passed out long ago from the stench! Ugh! Don't any of you ever wash things? Is there no water here or is there something against bathing in the city?_

"Umm . . . some people might have an . . . aversion to it," Rumple allowed.

_Disgusting! I'd say some of them have never had a bath in their lives! And then they wonder why they get sick! And people call us animals dirty. Ha! I'd bet you a soup bone that I'm cleaner than half these folk. Oh, what I wouldn't give for the scent of fir trees and fresh air._

Rumple went and caressed the big wolf's head. "I know. I miss it too. But we have to stay here. Maybe . . . later you can go for a run in the forest."

_Humph! And leave you alone? Not a chance! If I'm not there to protect you, who will?_

"There's Jeff and Dizzy. And I'm hardly a babe, to need a nursemaid," Rumple remarked a bit irritably.

_Trusting my sorcerer to an adventurer and a cat isn't my idea of protection. And you're still an apprentice when it comes to using magic, and there's another magic wielder here in this city somewhere. No, I'd best stay here. _

"Then hush your grousing, wolf. You complain worse than my kids," Rumple said.

Arrow gave him an indignant look. _If you weren't my sorcerer . . ._

"If you weren't my familiar . . ." Rumple began, then he halted when he realized they had almost spoken in tandem. His mouth quirked upwards in a reluctant grin. "Ah, we're a pair of fools sometimes, aren't we?"

_Maybe **you **are,_Arrow whuffed, then he nuzzled Rumple's hand affectionately. _I love you, Rumple. Even if you are a stubborn pain in my tail._

"Likewise, Arrow," his sorcerer said, his hand buried in the thick fur behind the pricked ears.

He had turned down Weaver's Row and had almost come to the Guild house, a large building with a slate tiled roof and large beveled glass windows on either side of the big green doors. Window boxes with hardy pink and purple flowers made the building seem more inviting, as did several shrubs lining the path. A large sign with the words _Wool Merchant's Guild House_ and beneath it the picture of a loom, yarn, and a spinning wheel stood outside to the right of the front entrance.

Just then a toddler in a blue dress and a pinafore, which was rather like a large apron, worn to keep little children from getting their clothes filthy, darted out into the road, her chubby hands outstretched, chasing a red leather ball.

She had round cheeks and bright brown eyes and wispy blond hair, an adorable cherub of a girl, and she ran right up to Arrow, who had halted as the ball came to rest in front of his paws.

"Doggie!" she cried, staring up at the wolf. "Big doggie!" She bent to pick up her ball, then reached out a hand to the grimm wolf. "Hi, big doggie!"

Arrow gently nosed her little hand and licked her, making her squeal with delight. "He lickted me! It tickles!" she went to stroke the gray and white coat, smiling. "Aww! Good doggie!"

"His name's Arrow, dearie," Rumple said, smiling at the toddler. "And who are you?"

"Manda," answered the child, petting Arrow fearlessly.

"I'm Rumple," he said, wondering where the person was that should be minding this little girl.

Just then a high-pitched voice shrieked, "Amanda Miller! Get away from that vicious beast!"

A girl of about eighteen or so darted out of a nearby house, she was dressed in maroon dress with a blue cornflower print on it and wore sturdy shoes on her feet and a cameo pin at her collar. Her brown hair was piled high on her head, and her brown eyes were snapping with anger.

The toddler turned, an impish grin upon her face. "Doggie, Cora! See!"

"That's not a dog, you silly girl! It's a wolf! Now get away from it!" the girl cried.

"Miss, it's okay. Arrow would never harm a child," Rumple began.

"Amanda! You naughty little wretch! Come here!" Cora cried, and she rushed up and snatched the child away from Arrow.

"No-o! I wanna pet the nice doggie!" wailed the child, her hands reaching out for Arrow. "Cora, no!"

"Don't you tell me no, you little brat!" Cora snapped. "What do you mean, running off like that?" She brought her hand down on the toddler's bottom, over and over, making the little girl shriek in pain.

Arrow laid his ears back and snarled softly.

"Hey! I think you've made your point, now leave off!" Rumple said, horrified at how hard the girl, obviously some kind of caregiver, was hitting the child. "She's a baby, she didn't know any better, and beating the hell out of her isn't going to teach her right from wrong."

"Mind your own business!" Cora scowled at Rumple. "She's _my_ sister, and I'll discipline her how I want to." She brought her hand down again, giving the sobbing child a tenth smack in about three minutes. "You're a very _bad_ girl!"

Rumple grabbed her arm. "Enough! Gods, she's crying so much she can barely catch her breath!"

"I _said_ mind your own business, you nosy cripple!"

Rumple shook his head. "I'm not going to stand here and watch you beat this poor baby because she happened to wander out here after her ball and start petting my wolf! Where were _you_, who should have been watching her?"

Cora yanked her arm free, and snarled, "I'm not answerable to you! And that animal ought to be on a leash!" Tucking her sobbing sister under her arm, she spun about and headed across the street to a fine house with blue gables. "You wretched brat! Making me chase you all over! Now my bread's probably burnt thanks to you!"

Rumple watched her leave, seething, but knowing he had done all he could do, yet his chest ached that it hadn't been enough. He picked up the red leather ball where the child had dropped it, and shook his head sadly, tucking it in his pocket. Perhaps he could stop by the house tomorrow and return it. Hopefully he wouldn't encounter the girl's sister again, otherwise he might be tempted to use magic on her. "That poor kid! Maybe she did deserve a swat for running off like that, but no kid deserves to be walloped that way, she looked to be about two at the most."

Arrow lifted his lips in a silent growl. _That girl ought to be bitten good and hard! No pup should be hurt like that, no matter what she's done._

"Tell me about it. She reminded me of Milah, all temper and no sense of restraint," Rumple said. He glanced over at the house the girl and the toddler had gone into and thought that it seemed a nice enough place to live, clearly those who lived in it weren't dirt poor, like some he'd seen, but comfortably well off. Upper merchant class, he thought. Looking at the house one might assume the occupants had everything they could desire, and no troubles at all. The spinner shook his head again. Money was no guarantee of happiness, despite what some might think.

"Come on, Arrow. I need to go talk to the Guild Master of this chapter, show him my credentials and get a wheel to start spinning and see if they have a loom I can borrow too," Rumple said, though his eagerness to speak to another member of the Guild was dampened slightly by the scene he'd just witnessed.

Upon entering the Guild house, he was introduced to Master Ingraham, the Head of the chapter, a jolly man with a round belly that jutted over his belt, dressed in a finely woven tunic of emerald green and tan trousers and floppy boots. He wore a braided brown vest over the tunic and his hair was starting to go bald on top.

"Hello! My assistant, Terry, said you wished to speak to me, uh . . ."

"Rumplestiltskin, at your service," Rumple said, bowing.

Master Ingraham blinked. "R-Rumpleshstilskin? What a mouthful that is!"

"Just call me Rumple," the spinner said.

"You're not from around here."

"No, we just arrived. Me and my two children and my . . . err . . . bodyguard, or so he calls himself. And this is Arrow, my familiar." He gestured to the grimm wolf, sitting at his left heel.

Master Ingraham stared. "You're a sorcerer? Then what are you doing here?"

"I'm actually new to my magic, but my previous occupation was as a master spinner and weaver in the Enchanted Forest. That's what I do for a living, not sorcery." He pulled out the stamped copper disk that indicated he was a master.

Master Ingraham took it and examined it. "I see. Well, welcome to Avonlea City. Have you established lodgings for yourself? If not, the Guild has a chapterhouse just down the way, you can stay there for a silver a month, that's a master's rate."

"Right now I have lodgings at the King's Rest," Rumple said modestly. "But thank you and I'll keep it in mind. Would you happen to have a wheel I can use? My own was . . . left behind as it was too far to bring it. And a loom as well?"

"Of course. I'll have Griselda show you where we have the extra wheels in the attic and the looms are all in the weaving room, you can claim any unoccupied one, and we'll put a sign on it, so everyone knows it's yours, Rumple. You're also entitled to a stall at the market every weekend, we have our market day on Saturday and Sunday. You can sell whatever you wish that you've made, with a seventh tithe each month going to the Guild, you know, the usual dues. You also have the right to use the dyer's shed each Wednesday, and as a master can get a hot noon meal here while you're working."

"And does that meal extend to my children as well?"

"Of course, that's standard Guild policy. Oh, and there's also free library cards for you and your young 'uns. That's a perk found only here in the City. Jenna can give you those, she's over at the front desk today, you saw her coming in."

"Thank you, Master Ingraham."

"The pleasure's mine, Rumple. And call me Derek, please. We're both masters here."

"Derek. You've been very kind. And if I . . . wanted to inquire about . . . a magical tutor, who would I talk to?"

"That would be Archmagus Gwydion, he's the only master sorcerer here in the City. He's also the Royal Magician. He hasn't had an apprentice in some years, but I'm sure he'll be glad to give you some pointers. Just go up to the palace, he has his hours posted on the notice board in the courtyard."

_Or I could just ask Belle,_ Rumple thought.

"Come, I'll introduce you round to the others here. I have three other masters here besides you, and thirteen journeymen, and about twenty-five apprentices right now. The Spring Faire is coming up soon, in about a week, and the Wool Merchant's Guild always holds a contest to see who can spin the finest thread and weave the softest cloth. In fact, last year's winner lives right across the way, she's a senior journeywoman, called Cora Miller. A very good weaver and spinner, though she does have a bit of a temper, I'm afraid. Makes her a little . . . erratic sometimes."

"I think we've met," Rumple said tightly.

"And I take it from the look on your face it wasn't a very cordial one?" Derek asked sympathetically. "Cora has that effect on a lot of people. She can be very . . . . forceful and forward and inclined to having her own way. But you outrank her, Rumple, so don't you be putting up with any airs from her."

"I won't, dearie," Rumple assured him. Then he followed Derek as he introduced Rumple to the other members of the Guild.

Rumple found all of them very polite and friendly, especially young Griselda who was fifteen and seemed to swoon every time Rumple spoke to her.

Mistress Beatrice, who was the only woman of master rank in the chapter right now, just shook her head. "She's a good girl, but sometimes she's a mooncalf, especially when she sees a handsome stranger."

Rumple blushed as he realized the handsome stranger she was referring to was himself. "Me? I'm ten years her senior with two kids and a crippled leg."

"And no wife, right? That's not a bad catch, considering," laughed Beatrice. "Oh, Rumple! You're red as a radish! Ah, I'm just teasing you. But Grissy really does have stars in her eyes for you, the silly lass. But if you don't encourage her, she'll find someone else to fix her eyes on in fortnight or so."

Rumple prayed she was right. The last thing he needed was some teenager mooning over him. But he had to admit it was rather flattering.

After he had gathered his library cards and gotten an ivory disk that indicated he was a master and entitled to a free meal courtesy of the Guild kitchens, as well as arranging to have his wheel and some raw wool delivered to his room at The King's Rest, Rumple went back to the inn.

By then Bae and Val were awake and restless, and Val was begging to go to the library.

"And I want to see a puppet show, Papa!" Bae said, tugging on his hand.

"If you're going to go to the library, Rumple, I'm going to go across the way to one of the taverns and play a hand of cards," Jeff said. "I need to replenish my cash supply now that we're in the city."

"Do you win often?" asked the spinner.

"Enough to keep me solvent, most days," the adventurer admitted. "And I'm careful to never bet my entire fortune. I'm not compulsive, if that's what you're thinking."

"Go ahead, Jeff. I'll meet you back at the inn in time for supper, which I think's around six here," Rumple said.

"Papa, I'm hungry," Val said.

"All right, sweetheart, we'll get you something on the way to the library. I saw some cookshops along the way," Rumple said.

"I want some sausage," Bae said.

"We'll see what they have, son. Let's go, and remember, no letting go of my hand while we're walking. This is a big city and you could get lost in an instant."

"Or _you_ could, Papa," Val stated.

Rumple chuckled. "Very true, dearie."

It took about fifteen minutes before they reached the center of the city, where the King's Library stood. On the way, Rumple stopped to get them something to eat, finding a decent cookshop which sold small hand-held pies with different fillings in them. He got a sausage, pepper, and onion one for Bae, and two ground chicken ones with gravy, onions, and sharp cheese for himself and Val. He also asked if they happened to have a bone for Arrow, and the owner of the shop took one look at the big wolf and happily gave him a huge meaty thigh bone to eat. They also had cups of cold cider and shared a small cone of crispy potatoes with salt and vinegar.

"It's not as good as McDonald's, but it's good," Val said as she ate one.

After he had brought them to a public outhouse to wash their greasy hands and faces, Rumple continued on to the library with Arrow and the two children.

The King's Library was a massive building of pure white marble and limestone, with three great pillars supporting the peaked roof and marble steps going up to huge double doors with the words _No knowledge is ever wasted_ carved upon them in gold script.

Statues of two horses rearing flanked the courtyard where a small fountain that sparkled with blue water glistened in the sun.

Arrow said he would wait for them in the shade beside the fountain, and so they left him to nap while they entered the library.

Rumple found that once they were inside, the library was cool and lit with special lights—mageglobes—according to the librarian at the huge circulation desk, that provided steady bright light much better than candles or oil lamps to read by.

The library was so huge that it had three floors, a basement where the magical books were kept, and which required a special pass from the Royal Magician to use, the ground floor, where most of the books on government, history, law, cooking, even on weaving and textiles were stored, the upper levels were devoted to astronomy, astrology, adventure and romance tales, and a large section of children's books, some of which were illustrated.

Once Rumple had acquired a map that detailed where everything was in the library, they climbed the spiral staircase to the children's section. They found everything was organized by sections and numbers, and Val found the children's section by spotting a pretty book with lovely engravings sticking out of a shelf.

"Papa, look at this one!" Val cried, and tugged it free to show him.

It was called _The Dragon and the Sorceress_, and though a rather weighty tome, Val was enraptured. "I want this one!"

Rumple smiled. "Are you sure you can carry that big book, Val?"

"Uh huh. It looks like the coolest story." She hugged the precious book to her.

Bae ran over to where he saw some books about horses, and found one, not as large, called _Winged Mercury_ about a Pegasus and his rider.

Val was looking over at the astronomy section curiously when she ran right into someone. "Oh! Sorry, I didn't see you!" she began, looking up to see a familiar face. "Oh! Belle!"

Belle grinned, and put a finger to her lips. "Shhh! I'm trying not to be noticed." She indicated her plain blue frock with brown laces and her lacy blouse and matching shoes. Her hair was curled and pulled back with a ribbon, like any ordinary girl's.

"What are you doing?" Val whispered, her green eyes glinting.

"I'm supposed to be meeting Gaston to watch a silly joust and go out with some friends of his from court, but I'd rather be poked with hot coals than spend an hour in his company. So I snuck away and came in here to hide," Belle said with a smirk.

"Val! Where'd you go?" came Bae's voice from two rows behind them.

Then the little boy appeared at the end of the row and said, "Oh, there you are! Hey, Papa, I found her!"

"Baelfire, don't shout," Rumple said, limping towards him as quickly as he could. "This is a library, you have to be quiet. People are studying."

"Sorry, I forgot," the little boy apologized. Then he noticed who else was standing beside Val. "Hi, Belle!"

"Hello, Bae," Belle said, thanking all the gods there was no one around to hear the boy greet her . . . except for Rumple.

He appeared around the corner of a shelf, his face brightening as he saw her. "Hey. Did you decide to come early, Belle?"

"Umm . . . sort of," Belle said, suddenly awkward about admitting her reason for being here.

"Papa, she's hiding from Gaston, because he's such a boring jackass," Val declared.

"Valentina! You watch your mouth!" Rumple scolded, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Belle, she . . . uh . . ."

"Is a very honest child," Belle said, chuckling. "And she's right. That _is_ why I'm here. I simply couldn't bear another moment in his company, listening to him go on about the way this or that knight handles a lance or how many hits it takes to disarm an opponent or whatever." She covered her mouth with a hand. "So I told him I . . . err . . . needed to get a drink and I ran as quickly as I could over here. It's the one place I know Gaston would never willingly set foot in."

Rumple swallowed hard, thinking her brilliant blue eyes were doing outrageous things to his insides. "I see. Umm . . . we're here because we needed to find some new reading material. My children—especially my little girl here—are avid bookworms. As am I."

"Me too!" Belle said, thinking how fortunate she'd been to run into the spinner/sorcerer here, in the one place she usually came to escape the pressures of being a princess and the only heir to the kingdom. "Last week I took out the most wonderful book on astronomy and used it to chart the course of stars in the heavens."

"Have you studied astronomy then?" asked Rumple.

"Yes. It's one of my favorite subjects. Have you?"

"No, dearie. Haven't had the chance. But perhaps now I will." He nervously put his hands in his pockets, for his palms were suddenly damp and he didn't want her to see them. As he surreptitiously wiped them on the inside of his tunic, he felt a bulge in his left pocket. It was then he recalled the book he'd put there last night.

"Err . . . are you looking for something new to read, Belle?"

"Rumple, I'm _always_ looking for something new to read," the princess laughed. "My father says I devour books like other people do chocolate . . . though I do like chocolate."

"So do I, dearie. There's nothing better than curling up with a nice mug of hot cocoa and a good book in front of the fire," Rumple said. Then he pulled the book from his pocket. It was one he had read and purchased at the Walmart in New York. "Uh . . . here. It's a good one, I read it a few weeks ago."

Belle took the book and she marveled at the ink and the pages. "Rumple! This is . . . amazing! Look how tight the binding is. And these pages, they're so light, but the ink is so clear, it doesn't even smudge. And look at the colors on the cover, so bright and so . . . it's wonderful! I've never seen a book like this. Where did you get it?"

"In a realm called New York. All their books are like that."

"New York," Belle repeated. "I've never heard of that realm."

"Oh, it's a long way away, dearie."

"It's where I used to live, before I came to live here with Papa and Bae," Val explained.

Belle frowned. "You mean, you're not . . . but I thought you were his daughter . . .?"

"She is, Belle. But I adopted her, she's not blood related to me," Rumple told her.

"My real papa was a nasty beast, and he died in a fire," Val said candidly. "So then I could come and live with Rumple, and that's what I did. And now he's my new papa, and he's a lot better than my old one. He never screams at me or smacks me so hard he knocks me on the floor and he doesn't call me a stupid brat who ought to be in hell either. Rumple says I'm his pretty girl and I'll be his forever and ever and he loves me like my old one never did."

Belle stared at the child, her expressive eyes filled with tears. "That's . . . that's the most lovely and sad story I've ever heard. I'm so glad you have a good papa now, Val." She looked at Rumple and said, "You've got a good heart, Rumple, to take in a stranger's child and raise her as your own. Most people would never do such a thing."

Rumple shrugged, embarrassed. "Well, she needed a home and a family, and I could provide her with one and besides . . . I love her, as she said, so it doesn't matter if she's not my blood at all." He put a hand on Val's shoulder.

"That's a very . . . different attitude than the one most nobles have," Belle admitted. "To a noble, blood means everything. It tells you who's related to whom and which people are fit to sit at the table next to you and who a suitable match is and . . . well . . . you get the picture. It's very complicated . . . and very boring. I guess that's why I like the company of commoners better. I don't have to worry if I'm offending anyone!" she laughed.

Her laughter reminded Rumple of wind chimes tinkling, it was so merry and musical. He felt he could listen to it all day and not grow tired. "I doubt you could ever offend anyone, dearie."

"Oh, yes, I could," Belle chuckled. "And I have," she admitted. "But being a princess, no one ever really says much to me about it, but they kind of get this . . . stiff look on their face and I know somehow I've blundered again. It's why I like books. I never make mistakes with them."

"I can understand that," Rumple said, his brown eyes dancing.

"Would you mind if I borrowed this? _The Greatest Knight,"_ she read the title aloud. "It looks like a wonderful tale."

"Not at all. I have its sequel also, back in my room at the inn. You can borrow it as well when you're ready. In fact, you can have it."

"Oh, but I couldn't!"

"Please. Call it . . . a gift between friends," Rumple insisted. Then he flushed.

"Thank you! Thank you so much," Belle said, and she clutched the book to her as if he'd given her a diamond necklace. "How are you finding Avonlea so far?"

"It's quite a nice place, dearie, though I haven't seen all of it yet," Rumple admitted.

"Papa, I'm going to sit down at the table over there and read," Val said, pointing to a small table in the corner.

"Me too," said Bae, and the two ran over to the table, leaving the two adults alone to talk.

Rumple found himself telling Belle all about the Guild House, Derek, and even his encounter with Cora and Amanda Miller.

"That woman sounds perfectly awful!" Belle frowned. "If I ever saw something like that, I'd give her a warning to treat that child properly or else she could get brought up by a magistrate on charges for brutalizing a child."

"Seriously? You have laws . . . prohibiting such things?" Rumple queried.

"Yes. We don't use them often, but we have them. You can read about them in the law section of the library."

"And if . . . someone is found guilty of mistreating a child, what happens then?"

"Well, it depends. In some cases a child might be removed from that person and given to a relative to raise. In other cases . . . he or she might become a ward of the court, though we haven't had a court ward since before my mother died. But such treatment is not condoned here in Avonlea."

"Even if the child is blood related and the . . . person says it's only discipline?"

"Yes. Discipline is different from what you described to me. Giving a child a sound spanking isn't the same as beating one until they bleed or can't sit down for days. Or continually berating a child and making them feel like they're worthless vs. a mild scolding for something they did wrong. And any subject of Avonlea has the right to report such conduct, so . . . if you see it happening again, you can report it to the nearest magistrate, and if it's warranted, she'll be brought up on charges."

"Hmm. I'll keep it in mind, though I wonder if her papa knows of the way she treats her sister?" Rumple mused. "I could tell him if I see anything next time."

"True. Maybe he doesn't know. Some people are oblivious to things right under their noses," Belle said. "Did you find a book yet, Rumple?"

"No. Uh, maybe you could suggest one? I . . . err . . . read almost anything."

"Come on then. I found the most interesting one over here, in the historical novelization section. It's about one of the founding families of Avonlea and it might give you a good idea of the principles this city-and kingdom—are founded on without boring you to tears." She grabbed his hand and towed him down the aisle.

Rumple followed, feeling like he'd stepped into a tale himself, one where the princess actually has an interest in a common spinner instead of the prince she's supposed to marry, and he felt his face heat as he followed her down the stacks. _Don't be ridiculous, Rumple. You're friends, and that's all it can ever be. Now quit imagining a future with her and just enjoy the time you have. Soon you'll be so busy you won't even have time to think about anything but spinning and weaving, much less a princess who happens to like books and reads like a fiend. _

But he smiled to himself and decided he would enjoy himself while he could, and he savored the feel of her little hand about his, her touch making him quiver all over, like a lyre whose strings had been plucked by a gentle hand.

**A/N: Sorry it took me so long to update this, I was busy working on The Gold Standard, which is nearly complete, so please excuse the delay and I hope you enjoyed this chapter.**


	31. Many Meetings

**31**

**Many Meetings**

Rumple went to bed that night after reading each child a story from their new library books and dreamed again of Belle and he dancing at a formal ball, she dressed in a golden satin gown that set off her creamy skin and dark hair to perfection and himself dressed in fine buttery-soft kidskin breeches and a silk shirt and red brocade vest, with dragonhide boots, the kind of clothes he could never afford, the clothes of a nobleman. Add to that the fact that he was invited to any such function as a formal dress ball, which were usually only reserved for nobles and those few commoners who were high in the king's favor, only added to the ridiculousness of the dream, as did the fact that he was dancing with Belle, when his lame leg barely allowed him to walk on it, much less dance.

Yet he woke gasping and his heart thundering in his chest like a runaway horse, flushed with longing and desire so great he feared he needed an ice cold bath somewhere. Tossing and turning and not wishing to wake his children with his restlessness, he decided to do what he usually did when sleep eluded him . . . spin.

So he carefully climbed over the trundle bed where Bae and Val were sleeping and went to the wheel he'd set up in the corner of the room. Then he pulled over the basket of wool, which had been carded, and began to spin, the familiar motions and whirring of the wheel serving to make him forget the sudden desire for a woman he would never be able to have. Not in this lifetime anyway.

He spun and spun until his hands grew sore and his head drooped, then he got up and washed them in the basin of water on the little stand and went back to bed. Tomorrow he would take the thread he'd spun over the Guild hall and see what kind of cloth they had and weave a few blankets and perhaps sew a few items of clothing. He'd heard that in the big cities they had things called sewing machines that could sew cloth faster than anyone could by hand, and he could probably make a few shirts and dresses or trousers to sell this upcoming market day, using the thread he'd spun tonight. He also needed to return the little ball to the Miller house, and hoped he wouldn't run into that dreadful snip Cora again. That woman reminded him so much of Milah, except for looks, that she might have been her twin sister.

He fell asleep and only woke when he heard a knock at the door and Marian called, "It's Marian, Master Rumple, with fresh hot water and towels."

He went and opened the door, and ushered the maid into the room. She came and said apologetically, "Sorry, Master Rumple, did I wake you? I can come later on, if you want to sleep in tomorrow."

Rumple slanted her an amused glance. "Me, sleep in? Only if I'm sick, dearie. I'm used to getting up with the dawn, so no worries there. Thank you for bringing this, now I can wash up before my little imps are awake and want their breakfast."

Beside the trundle, Arrow woke and stretched, then shook himself. _Be back, Rumple. I need to go out for a bit. I'll meet you at the Guild house later._

The spinner nodded as the wolf left the room, figuring Arrow needed to relieve himself and probably wanted a run in the forest too, as it was hard on the grimm wolf being cooped up in four walls and inside a city with so many people. And because of their bond, the wolf would always find him.

Marian glanced at the big animal and said, "He's housebroke, right? Umm . . . is that why he's leavin', sir?"

"Yes. You needn't worry about Arrow. He's not an ordinary wolf, but a familiar," the spinner reassured her.

"Okay, sir." Marian bobbed a brief curtsey and then left the room, giving Rumple privacy to shave and wash his face before the children woke.

**Page~*~*~*~*~*~Break**

"I need to go over to the Guild hall today to weave a few things and so forth," Rumple told Jefferson over their breakfast of fresh buttery rolls, coffee, fruit, and slices of honey ham. "I'm also going to see about finding someone to mind my children while I'm working, I think there's a small school run by a Guild member for our children, and if so, I'll enroll Val and Bae in it."

"You mean, we can go to school like we would back in the village, Papa?" Bae asked eagerly.

"Yes, if that's what the Guild has set up here," Rumple replied. "But I'll have to see about it. Jeff, would you mind terribly watching them for a few hours while I weave?"

"Not at all. Dizzy and I'll go see that puppet show Bae's been wanting to look at, and do some other stuff around here with them while you're sewing," Jeff said calmly.

"Really, dearie? Thank you," Rumple said sincerely.

"No trouble," the adventurer said, and the two children cheered happily.

Rumple looked over at them and prompted, "What do you say to Jeff, children?"

"Thanks, Jefferson!" they both recited.

"And Dizzy too," Bae added

The Cheshire cat grinned atop the table and said, _That's right, kit, don't forget to thank me. I'll make sure no idiots try and steal you away._

"Heaven forbid!" Rumple muttered.

"Nobody'd dare do that on my watch, Rumple," Jefferson assured him.

"Where's Arrow?" Val asked, looking about for the grimm wolf.

"Off having a bit of a run in the forest, dearie," her father informed her. "He'll be back when he's worked off some of his energy and whatnot." Draining his cup of coffee and finishing the last peach in the bowl, Rumple rose and said, "Now you two behave for Jefferson and Dizzy and when we have market day again, I'll get you a treat. But if you don't, you know what'll happen."

"Yeah, we know," Bae said. "No dessert, an early bedtime, and no bedtime stories."

"We'll be good, Papa," Val promised, shivering a little at that threat. No bedtime stories, what an awful thing!

"Okay, dearies, I'll see you later," the spinner said, then hugged and kissed his children goodbye and went off towards the Guild house.

Rumple decided his first order of business should be returning the red leather ball to the Miller child, and walked purposefully across the street to the gabled house. He paused before he knocked on the door and felt a sudden presence beside him. "Back already, Arrow?"

The grimm wolf whuffed in response, then sat calmly beside the spinner while he knocked on the door. _Told you I would be, Rumple._

To Rumple's vast relief, the door was answered not by Cora, but by a middle-aged man in a brown tunic and trousers with a black vest. He had dark hair and deep brown eyes and a florid complexion, which Rumple considered might be brought on by a little too much ale. "Hello. I'm Bart Miller, how may I help you?"

"Actually, I m here to help you," Rumple said. "My name is Rumplestiltskin, master spinner and weaver, and I'm here to return this to your little girl." He held out the red leather ball. "She dropped it when she ran into the road after it and stopped to pet my familiar here," he pointed to Arrow.

"My gods, she ran in the road?" Bart's eyes went wide. "I didn't know that. Cora, she's my oldest daughter, never told me that, just that she was a naughty brat and gave her a spanking."

Rumple's mouth twisted into a grimace. "Err . . . this isn't really any of my business, but . . . your daughter Cora punished your little one right in front of me and I . . . I have to say, being a parent also, that her methods are a bit harsh for such a young child."

"What do you mean? Surely, it was just a couple of smacks," the miller said, puzzled. He took the ball from Rumple.

Rumple shook his head. "No. That wouldn't be excessive. But she . . . walloped your youngest terribly, gave her at least ten hard smacks, and your little one was crying so hard that she couldn't catch her breath."

Bart sucked in a breath. "Aww, flaming hells! You're serious?"

"I wouldn't lie about this, dearie," the spinner said softly. "My former wife was very short tempered and used to wallop my son way too harshly, so I know what I'm talking about and this happened right in front of me. I tried to get her to stop, but she refused to listen to me and I have an aversion to anyone beating children, I don't care what they've done to deserve it."

Bart looked suddenly ashamed. "I . . . I don't beat my girls. I've told Cora before, she's too quick with her hands and her temper, but she's always been a willful lass and not inclined much to listen to me, much like my late wife. Kristine always had a quick temper too, though she usually leashed it around the girls and saved up her spleen to vent on me."

"I've been there," Rumple said sympathetically. "Look, I'm not here to cause trouble, just to return your baby's toy, but I just thought you should know . . . given the laws around here, someone could . . . report her if they see it happening again and your child could be taken away." He gave Bart a meaningful look.

The miller nodded. "I'll see to it that it doesn't happen again. Thanks for letting me know, Master . . . err . . . what did you say your name was again?"

"Just call me Rumple," the spinner said. He would have bid the miller good day then, but a little voice cried, "Papa, see the big doggie!"

Amanda had come up to see what her father was doing standing in the doorway, and as she grasped one of his legs with her small hand and peered around them, she spotted Arrow sitting beside Rumple. She pointed at the wolf and giggled. "See! Pet the big doggie, Papa!"

"Mandy, lovey, I don't think you should—" Bart began uneasily.

"—it's okay. Arrow loves children, he'd never hurt one," Rumple said quickly. "Mine have climbed all over him and he saved my daughter from being bitten by a viper."

"Honest?" Bart looked at the wolf in surprise, impressed. "So he's some kind of hero wolf then?"

"That he is. Come out, dearie, and pet him," Rumple called to Amanda.

The toddler squeaked and ran right out the door and threw her chubby arms about Arrow, burying her face in his ruff and cooing, "Aww! Nice doggie!"

Arrow just sat there, his tail wagging slightly, looking resigned.

"See what I mean? He's like a furry rug with kids," Rumple chuckled.

Bart watched in amazement as his daughter then proceeded to order the big wolf to lie down and Arrow did so, letting Amanda rub his belly and then the child actually went and sat on his back . . . like he was a pony!

"Amanda!" the miller gasped.

The little girl looked at him and grinned. "Papa, I ride the big doggie!" she banged her little feet against the grimm wolf and cried, "Giddup, doggie!"

Arrow heaved a long suffering sigh and stood, careful not to dislodge his passenger.

"Surely, he's not . . ." Bart began, then trailed off as the wolf quietly walked up and down the walk with Amanda clinging to his back. "My gods!"

"That's what I'm talking about," Rumple indicated the wolf and the child. "He's let both my kids ride on him like that numerous times. And he's very protective of all of us."

"Yeah, I imagine he would be," Bart said. He watched in amazement as Arrow calmly went and lay down on the porch. "Okay, Mandy, c'mere. The . . . doggie's tired and wants to take a nap."

"Aww!" the little girl groaned, then she bent and kissed Arrow on the nose, receiving a lick in return. "Night night, doggie!" Then she climbed off the grimm wolf and toddled back over to her father.

"Can you say Arrow, dearie?" asked Rumple, kneeling down a bit so he could speak to her on her own level. "That's his name."

Amanda looked at him, then said, "Warrow. Him named Warrow."

"Very good!" Rumple praised. "You're a smart lass, aren't you?"

"She is, isn't she?" Bart said, picking her up. "I've always thought so. She talks really good for her age, I think. Only Cora says she's a little brat."

"Cora bad!" Amanda stated, then buried her head in her father's shoulder.

"Hmm," Rumple snorted, then said, "Well, I must be going, Master Miller. If you wish to make a deal with me for some cloth or thread, you can find me on market day at my booth. Good day to you."

"And to you, Master Rumple. Mandy, say bye to Rumple and Arrow."

Mandy pulled her head up and waved her small hand, crying, "Bye bye, Warrow an' Rumple!"

"Bye, dearie. Arrow, let's go," the spinner said, and together wolf and sorcerer went to the Guild house, leaving a very thoughtful and wiser Bart Miller staring after them.

"Got to talk with Cora tonight," he muttered as he shut the door. "What is she, crazy, doing that to Mandy! And in front of a bloody sorcerer too! Fool girl! Lucky he didn't turn her into a frog or something!"

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Rumple arrived at the Guild house and spoke with Derek for a few moments, asking the other master if the Guild had some kind of school or other facility where he could send his children during the time he was weaving and sewing here.

"Of course. We have a tutor from the royal enclave as a matter of fact, she's very good. Her name's Eva, she's the younger daughter of King Maurice's cousin, royal but not at all pretentious or snooty. She enjoys being around kids and says this is one way she can serve her people and not be forced to dress up like a popinjay. All of us like her a lot, I'm sure you will too."

"I'll speak to her next time I'm here, if she's available," Rumple said. "Now, would you happen to have a minute to show me where you keep these . . . sewing machines I've heard about?"

"Then you've never used one before?" Derek's eyes twinkled. "Oh, you're gonna love them, Rumple! You can sew things like lightning with them, though we only have four available, but since you're a master, you get one for your own personal use anytime you want it. Everyone else has to wait their turn and sign one out. C'mon, they're right next to the weaving room."

He led Rumple into a room where four black machines stood on four tables. The room had big windows and plenty of light, and Derek showed Rumple how to put a spool of thread in the machine and how to sew a seam on a piece of scrap cloth by pumping a treadle, similar to how his wheel worked. Rumple was amazed at how well it worked.

"This is . . . it's incredible! I can make three shirts at least in the time it'd take me to do one by hand, and I'm fast with a needle," the spinner exclaimed.

"I know! Isn't it great! We're lucky to have this many of them, but that's because our King is progressive and wants all the latest things in his kingdom." He patted Rumple on the back. "Have fun, Rumple. See ya around, maybe at lunch, huh?"

"Probably," Rumple agreed, then he went next door to the weaving room and examined some of the cloth and began to weave some dark blue material for a coat for Jefferson, as a thank you gift for watching his kids, and because he'd noticed the man's old one was getting kind of threadbare and it went against his principles as a master spinner to have his friend dressed shabbily.

By the time an hour had gone by, Rumple had finished weaving the base of the coat, and had an audience in a few of the apprentices, namely Griselda and two others, named Aleta and Sammy. He looked up and saw them all watching him, and said, "Did you want to ask me something?"

"Just . . . how do you weave that cloth so tight, Master Rumple?" Griselda said, then blushed. She always sounded slightly breathless, as if she'd just run a race.

"Come here, dearies, and watch closely," he beckoned them. "It's all about tension and control. You have to make sure you press down firmly on the shuttle . . ."

He demonstrated his technique, moving slowly enough so the apprentice weavers could see exactly what he did. Once he was satisfied they had grasped what he was doing, he had them try it out on their own looms while he finished weaving on his own. Then he examined their work, corrected a few of them gently, and then took his material to the sewing room and began to draw measurements upon the cloth with some fabric chalk and cut it out.

He worked nonstop on the coat for three hours, then took a break for lunch, meeting Derek in the mess hall, and getting some filling chicken pie and a piece of oat bread for lunch along with a small ale and a berry turnover. The food was very good and Rumple also enjoyed Derek's company.

After five hours, he had the coat halfway done, thanks to the wonderful machine, and was ready to go back to the inn and meet Jeff and the children again. He took the unfinished coat and began to walk back to The King's Rest with Arrow alongside him.

He had just reached the inn yard when a tall man wearing a fancy velvet cape colored a rich plum and a white shirt with a quilted sapphire colored doublet edged in gold and matching white kidskin breeches and fine boots of tooled leather came up to him. He looked to be in his late thirties, with a handsome face and eyes that matched his doublet and hair that flowed to his shoulders of a platinum blond color.

Arrow suddenly stiffened and eyed the stranger sharply. _Rumple, that's a sorcerer,_ the wolf sent.

"Hello. I'm Rumplestiltskin, can I help you?"

The man looked at him and said, "I'd rather think I might be able to help you, according to a mutual acquaintance we both know," the man lowered his voice. "I mean Princess Belle. My name's Gwydion, I'm the Royal Magician. I heard there was another practitioner here in the City and wanted to say welcome and offer my service as a tutor if you needed them."

"Pleased to meet you. I was going to come to and speak with you tomorrow. And I would be grateful for any advice you could give me. I'm rather new to this magic business, so . . ." Rumple spread his hands. "If you'd like to make a deal . . ."

Gwydion chuckled. "We can discuss particulars when you come up to my suite at the castle. Just ask anyone you see, they know where my rooms are." Then he turned and bowed to Arrow. "Well met, child of Selene. And you are?"

_Arrow,_ the grimm wolf sent.

"So, a familiar has chosen you already. That speaks highly for your ability, grimm wolves only choose the best," Gwydion said.

"Do you have one?"

Gwydion winced. "I did. But she . . . passed on recently, last year, and I've not had the heart to go and allow another to choose me yet. Silva was my companion for . . . almost thirty-four years, I'm older than I look. Come by tomorrow, around noon, and I'll introduce you to a few of the court . . . perhaps even His Majesty if he's not busy."

"You . . . know the king?" Rumple stammered.

"Of course! I'm one of his closest advisors, I've known him since he was a boy and only second in line for the throne, until his brother died of a fever untimely. I was one of the princess's tutors too, in astronomy, as it's a pet hobby of mine."

"I would be . . . honored, but I have nothing suitable to wear, I'm no courtier, just a country spinner," Rumple said.

Gwydion laughed. "You're also a sorcerer. Here, let me show you a simple charm that can change your wardrobe. Watch," he showed Rumple a simple charm that altered his clothing from ordinary homespun to silk and velvet.

"That's it?" exclaimed the younger sorcerer.

"Easy, isn't it? All you need to do is to focus and concentrate. Transmutation is one of the easier skills to master," Gwydion said. "And it saves having to spend money you don't have on clothes. Some sorcerers' are rich from treasure hunting and such, but I'm afraid I'm not one of them."

"Neither am I. Not with two kids to support," Rumple admitted.

"You're married?"

"Not any more. She left, so it's just me and the children."

"I see. That's unusual. Most of us are kind of loners. But you and your children are welcome to visit me whenever you like, Rumple. I'll see you tomorrow, all right?"

"Sure, dearie. May I bring Arrow?"

"That's a given. A familiar goes where his sorcerer does," Gwydion said, with a friendly grin. Then he waved a hand and vanished in a cloud of purple smoke.

Well, it had been a day full of surprises and unexpected meetings, Rumple thought, and though he was nervous about meeting the king and his courtiers, his heart also leaped at the thought that perhaps he might see Belle again, sooner than he had expected.

**So, what did you think of Rumple's meetings with Bart and Gwydion?**


	32. The Presentation

**32**

**Presentation**

Rumple met Jeff, Dizzy, and the children back at their suite of rooms. Val and Bae ran and hugged him, all playful exuberance and childish delight. "Papa, guess what? Jeff took us to see the puppet show and it was so funny, I laughed until I cried," Bae told him, his dark eyes shining.

"Yeah, and it was better than the play I saw with Miss Hotchkiss at school last year," Val said. "You gotta come and see it with us, Papa. They do it again on the weekend." She snuggled into Rumple's arms, loving how he held her so close, and made her feel so wanted, unlike Paul Morinelli, who had always avoided her touch as if she was diseased, only touching her when he smacked her for something. Rumple had been the first man ever to show her that a man's touch could be gentle, could feel good, and she adored hugging him.

"Okay, dearie, maybe I will . . . if I've got time," her father said, his brown eyes crinkling with merriment. "I'm glad you had a good time today with Jeff." He stood up, his arms still folded around his children as they leaned against him. "Jeff, thanks for looking after them."

"Hey, not a problem, Rumple," Jefferson said, looking faintly embarrassed. "Dizzy and I had a good time too watching that puppet show. I . . . never really got the chance to do much of that growing up. My dad was a soldier, so I was moved around a lot as a kid, my mom and I went from post to post, wherever he was assigned. So it was hard for me to, uh, make friends and stuff. For a long time my best friend was . . . and this may sound stupid, but . . . it was my mom. Until she took sick of a lung ailment and died when I was fourteen."

"That's so sad!" Val said, thinking of her own mother whom she'd never known.

"That must have been hard on you," Rumple said feelingly. "My own parents died when I was young also."

"Yeah, well, I got used to looking after myself, so to speak, 'cause my dad was a soldier first and he wanted me to become one too," Jeff sighed. "I tried, but I'm just not cut out for the military. I've never done well taking orders from anybody but myself, and having my dad always harping on me . . . well, we didn't have the closest relationship to start with, and that just made it worse. Also, it was right around then that my powers awakened, and once they did, nothing could stop me from running off to see the world . . . worlds, in my case. At first I used to come back every few months or so, just to see how my old man was doing, but after about two years of that, he told me to just get lost, and he'd found a new wife and she had some sons that wanted to be just like him, and he didn't need no scapegrace portal-jumper hanging on his tail. So, I left and have been wandering the realms ever since. Most recently with Dizzy. And now you guys."

Bae looked at Jefferson with large eyes, and whispered, "How could your papa just . . . tell you to leave like that? You were still his son. That's not fair!"

"Kid, life ain't fair," Jeff sighed. "You'll learn that when you're older."

"Your papa sounds like my old one, Jeff," Val said seriously. "He didn't want me around either and he'd have been happy if I went and got lost too. I think . . . I think that's why I could come here . . . to find people who wanted me."

"We'll _always_ want you, Val," Bae told her. "Right, Papa?"

"Forever and ever, my pretty girl," Rumple told her, and he hugged her to him again.

"And we want you around too, Jeff," Val said, smiling at the adventurer.

"Because we like you and Dizzy," Bae added.

"And because you're a good friend to me, and not just for watching my children," Rumple said, thinking of the coat he was making.

"Aww, please, guys! You want to embarrass me till I blush?" Jeff said, flushing slightly, but happy that his new friends felt that way about him.

_You see, Jefferson? Didn't I tell you that you just need to meet the right people in order to find friends worthy of you?_ said Dizzy, appearing on the end of the table, his face stretching into a wide grin.

"Yeah, yeah, cat. You're always right, aren't you?" Jeff snorted.

_Of course I am. I'm a cat,_ the Cheshire cat said smugly.

Arrow whuffed. _Know-it-all._

_Well, you know what they say . . . cats rule and dogs drool,_ Dizzy proclaimed, smirking.

Arrow half-bared his fangs. _I'm not a dog, Mr. Smiley-face! I'm a wolf and I could eat you for breakfast!_

_I'd like to see you try, slow poke!_ The cat snickered, then he vanished from view. _Now you see me, now you don't! Catch me if you can, dog breath!_

Arrow gave a very soft growl and put his ears back.

"Dizzy, quit it!" Jeff ordered.

Rumple laid a hand on his familiar's head. "Arrow, calm down! I don't want you smashing all the furniture just to get back at that silly feline."

The grimm wolf huffed and lay down beside his sorcerer. _Fine. But one of these days, Rumple . . . I'm going to bite his tail good!_

"Don't do that, Arrow," Val remonstrated. "It'll taste horrible!"

Jeff and Rumple chuckled over that and then Jeff said, "So, who's up for some dinner? Alice tells me that she made a really good roast beef with mashed potatoes and some kind of bean salad and corn for dinner tonight."

"Yay! Corn!" Bae cried. "I love corn. But I ain't eating no bean salad," he said stubbornly.

Rumple gave his son a mild frown. "You'll eat six bites of whatever I put on your plate, my boy. You know my rule."

"Aww, but Papa!" Bae groaned.

"Don't you but Papa me, Baelfire," Rumple said a bit sternly. "Six bites . . . or else no dessert."

Bae huffed, looking sulky.

Until Jeff said, "Hey, little buddy, you're lucky that's all you got to eat. When I was your age, my papa told me, you'll eat whatever we have and like it and that was it. And he made me eat stuff like liver and if you think bean salad's bad, you've never had to swallow liver . . . believe me, it's totally disgusting and I almost threw up. But I had to eat it, or else he'd tan my backside."

Val shivered at that and said, "Once my old papa made me drink spoiled milk 'cause he didn't believe me when I told him it'd gone bad. He said I was a liar and a drama queen and then when I threw up because of it, he made me clean the floor."

Jefferson was staring at the little girl in horror. "Hells, Val! That guy deserves to be chucked into a hole where the sun don't shine."

"Or strung up from a tree and disemboweled," Rumple said angrily.

"Okay, Papa. I'll eat my vegetables," Bae said quickly, realizing then how much better he had it than Jeff or Val had with their fathers.

Rumple mussed his hair affectionately. "That's my good boy. You know I'd never tell you to do something that'd hurt you, right?"

Bae smiled up at him. "I know, Papa."

As they all walked downstairs for dinner, Rumple nudged Jeff and murmured, "Alice, eh? Do I sense a little romance going on there, my friend?"

Jeff coughed. "Err . . . she's a nice girl . . . cute too . . .and yeah, I like her . . . but nice girls don't usually fall for sweet talking adventurers . . . unless they want to be bad for a night, if you know what I mean."

"Then maybe you ought to try . . . err . . finding out what makes her happy," Rumple said. "By the way, I've talked to Gwydion, the Court Wizard here. He's invited me to the palace tomorrow at noon to get presented to the . . . err . . . king and maybe set up some tutoring schedule also."

"Really? That's great, Rumple," Jeff said, giving the sorcerer a friendly smack on the back. "Go and impress the king and all that. And then you can see your favorite bookworm again too!" The adventurer said, and winked sassily.

"I've got about as much chance of getting her as a snowball freezing in hell," Rumple snorted.

"Hey, you never know. Hell could freeze over," Jefferson laughed. "Don't sweat it, buddy. I'll make sure the kiddies are entertained while you're partying with the nobles."

"Thanks," Rumple said, not letting on that this upcoming presentation had him growing more nervous by the minute. He doubted he'd measure up to their standards, he was just a common spinner with magical powers, and they were born to rank and privilege and such as they wouldn't take kindly to any upstart commoner trying to get above himself.

Arrow licked his hand comfortingly. _Don't worry, my sorcerer. I'll be there, and if anyone tries to slight you, I'll bite their rump good and hard. You're as good as any blue blood, Rumplestiltskin, and better than that royal ass Gaston!_

"Ah, Arrow!" the spinner sighed. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

_Anytime, Rumple,_ the grimm wolf sent affectionately, wishing he had whoever had stomped his wizard's self-esteem into the dirt before him so he could bite them hard.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

At eleven thirty, Rumple shaved and combed his hair for the fifth time, then used the spell Gwydion had shown him yesterday and changed his ordinary tunic, shirt, and breeches into much finer attire—a gold silk shirt with a crimson brocade doublet over it and dragonscale leathers with matching boots. The leathers fit like a second skin, and he prayed they didn't make him look like a kid dressing up to play princes and peasants. He had his staff, as always, but his limp wasn't bad today, since he'd gotten Marian to bring him a copper tub full of hot water and had himself a good long soak last night. It wasn't quite as good as the hot tub back in New York, but beggars couldn't be choosers, and anything that reduced the pain in his leg and made him able to walk better was a blessing.

Val and Bae had brushed Arrow last night till he shone, his gray and white coat gleaming and shiny, and even polished his brass tag and collar.

"How do I look?" Rumple asked Jeff, a trifle nervously.

"You look better than half the toffs I used to see hanging out at the barracks. I'll bet you ten silvers that Belle will take one look at you and her eyes will fall out of her head," Jeff smirked.

"Yeah, sure. I'm sure she's seen better dressed men than me before. And handsomer ones," Rumple said deprecatingly.

"Maybe, but you look like a lady-killer in those leathers, buddy. Trust me."

"That's nice of you to say, Jeff, but no lady wants to be with a cripple."

"I'm serious, man. Look, if you go over there all self-conscious, those nobles will eat you alive. But if you go there strutting your stuff, like this," Jefferson demonstrated a confident swagger as he walked across the room. "They're not gonna notice your limp, buddy."

Rumple goggled at him. "Jeff, I can't . . ."

"Yes, you can. Come on, try it," his friend encouraged.

Rumple hesitantly walked across the room, trying to use his staff minimally.

"Now, put some . . . err . . .swagger into it," Jeff told him.

"You make me feel like I'm some rooster strutting across the barnyard," Rumple said with an uneasy chuckle.

"Good! Because nothing can do swagger and flash like a bossy rooster," Jeff grinned.

Rumple tried again, muttering, "I feel like an idiot."

"No, no. You're doing real good. And remember, smile at the arrogant idiots too. And look 'em in the eye, Rumple. You're not just a spinner anymore, you're a sorcerer, and that makes you just as good as any noble."

After a few more minutes of Jeff's coaching, Rumple felt ready to go to the palace and hopefully not make a huge ass out of himself. He bid goodbye to Jeff and his children and started out, with Arrow trotting jauntily beside him.

It only took ten minutes to get to the palace, even with Rumple's infirmity. On the way there they passed several people, all coming to petition their monarch. Some of them gave him stares of awe and some shrank from him and whispered "Sorcerer! See his familiar and his wizard's staff?"

Rumple wanted to chuckle. His staff was nothing more than an ordinary walking stick, nothing the slightest bit magical about it. As he got closer to the palace, he saw several servants in various livery hurrying to and fro and guards in chain hauberks, helmets, and wearing the blue tunics with the spreading tree and crown of the royal coat of arms of Avonlea patrolling beside the gates to the palace grounds.

Swallowing hard, Rumple's steps slowed a little as he came down the road towards the palace. _You can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear, _he thought, his hand clenching upon his staff as he battled his ever present bout of nerves.

The grimm wolf nudged his ribs and whuffed softly. _Rumple, stop looking like a runaway apprentice about to get a well-deserved thrashing from his master. You've been invited and you belong here as much as any of them. Now pick up your head and quit looking at your feet and do like Jeff said—swagger like a rooster walking across the barnyard. You're my sorcerer, and as good as anybody._

"I wish I could believe that."

_Believe it. I do,_ Arrow declared, then he walked forward, his head up, proudly, like a king processing through his lands.

Rumple swallowed again, wiped his palms on his leathers, then tried to walk confidently, with that cock-of-the-walk swagger roosters had.

The palace at Avonlea was surrounded by a long wall about the height of a man, made of glittering alabaster stone. The fine white wrought iron gates with the royal crest on them, were thrown wide, welcoming anyone into the precincts.

As Rumple walked down the road with Arrow, he kept his eyes fixed upon the guards checking everyone as they passed, trying to forget the butterflies in his stomach. Because of that, he didn't notice the very admiring stares he was garnering from the women he passed, all of whom were sighing over the well turned figure he cut in those leathers.

"Oh, but he's a fine one, he is!" sighed a teenage girl, around seventeen, as Rumple passed her.

"Rhonda!" gasped her friend. "He's a sorcerer!"

"So what? He has a hot ass, and I wouldn't mind him casting a spell on me, no sir!" she giggled, poking her friend. "And neither would you, Lucy! Don't deny it!"

"I'm not . . . but my dad would have something to say about it all right!"

"Who cares? I'd run away with him in a heartbeat," declared her friend. "Oh, but just looking at him makes me weak in the knees!"

Arrow, who quite plainly heard the giggled whispers, flicked back an ear and grinned wolfishly.

After stating his name and business to the guards, explaining that he was invited to visit the Royal Magician Gwydion, Rumple walked into the grounds.

There was a huge expanse of lawn before him, immaculately kept, with well-trimmed hedges of roses and other flowering shrubs decorating the flagstones to the courtyard, which was a wide cobblestone area with steps leading up to the main building and other passages leading off to other areas of the palace.

The guards had pointed him up the stairs and said the Royal Magician's rooms were off the main hall, down the first passage on the right. "You can't miss 'em. He's got a red door with a gold "G" on it that changes color every Wednesday."

He garned a few more stares as he walked up the stairs and into the palace. The halls were well lighted with some clear burning globes attached to the walls in wrought iron sconces, and the palace itself was built of cool alabaster, with wide tiles of pretty green and blue striated marble. They echoed loudly as Rumple tapped his way down them with his staff, Arrow a silent watchful presence beside him.

He lifted a hand to knock on the door, and it swung open of its own accord. "Come in, Rumple!" called Gwydion's clear tenor.

Rumple stepped over the threshold, finding himself in a well appointed sitting room with a lush maroon carpet and fine teakwood furniture, and a couch upholstered in a fancy feather brocade pattern that Rumple knew must have cost more than he made in a month . . . make that two months. More of the glowing globes lit the room, which had tapestries of many sorcerers and sorceresses on the wall, casting various spells and stirring cauldrons bubbling with potions.

A beaded curtain rustled and Gwydion appeared from it, wearing a fine doublet of glittering cloth of silver and a white silk shirt with golden buttons and fine trousers of a deep blue and shiny boots of pearlescent dragon scale. On his belt he wore a small eating knife and several pouches. About his shoulders was a fine half-cloak of the same navy blue as his trousers. He wore several rings on his hands, several of gold with semi-precious stones and a pendant of a dragon's claw grasping a blue globe.

His platinum blond hair was brushed carelessly over his shoulders and he gave Rumple an appreciative once over before saying, "Well, spinner, you clean up really nice."

"Thanks to that spell you showed me," Rumple said awkwardly.

Gwydion waved a hand airily. "Window dressing, my fellow conjurer. But necessary to fit in here at court. You'll find when I'm not called on for court functions or to attend his Majesty, I'm usually dressed in a pair of cotton trousers and a shirt and my favorite pair of disreputable boots. Silva used to tell me I looked like something the cat dragged in."

"I feel like a peacock in these clothes," Rumple admitted.

Gwydion chuckled. "Me too, but after so long I've grown used to it."

"Then you're not . . . a noble?"

"Me? No . . . I'm the son of a merchant and the bookkeeper he fell in love with over his account ledgers one day," Gwydion said, amused. "I've got about as much noble blood in me as a fence post. But people tend to forget that when you've got the power to make them become worms. Not that I use my powers to terrify . . . not unless you really force my hand, but it doesn't matter. Those who wield magic are always looked on with some fear and suspicion, no matter what. Not a bad thing, sometimes. Keeps the riffraff from your door and from you getting mugged in a dark alley."

"You want people to fear you?"

"A little fear's a healthy thing, Rumple," Gwydion shrugged. "It keeps them guessing and with nobles, that's what you need to keep them from running all over you. Come, have a glass of chilled punch with me. I have a meeting with King Maurice in about half-an-hour, but we can relax till then." He snapped his fingers and two goblets appeared in his hands. He handed one to Rumple, then made a gesture and a bowl of water appeared by Arrow's feet. Another gesture brought a plate of sweet cakes to rest on the table.

Gwydion indicated he should sit on the couch, then sat beside him. "What I did was a simple summoning spell. I summoned some punch from the tray where the valets and pages keep it in the butler's pantry, and the same thing with the cakes here. The water I summoned from the kennels where the hunting hounds are kept."

"And people don't mind that things just disappear?" Rumple said.

"They know it's me, and they're used to it. I never summon things unless I'm in a hurry, or need to teach a spell," Gwydion explained. "Why don't we discuss a time for me to tutor you while we wait?"

"Okay. How about Wednesday mornings and Thursday evenings for now?" Rumple bargained. "I have to spin and weave the rest of the time, I'm a master spinner of the Wool Merchant's Guild."

"A spinner sorcerer. I like that!" Gwydion chuckled. "Yes, that's good. I'll make sure my calendar's free those days. Come around ten in the morning and four in the afternoon. We can have breakfast here and an early supper if you'd like. I'd appreciate the company, and not having to eat with the court once in awhile."

"What do I owe you for my tutoring?" Rumple asked shrewdly.

"Hmm . . . how about we draw up the standard master-apprentice contract? I'll tutor you in magic for seven years and you agree to learn what I have to teach in return and pay me a fee of—ten spools of thread every month. Sound fair?"

"As long as you pledge not to teach me any dark magic," Rumple bargained.

"Deal! I don't do dark spells, though I know how to counter many of them," Gwydion said. "You forget, I was a grimm wolf's chosen too." He sighed sadly. "I miss my Silva . . . like I would miss my hand were it cut off." He held out a hand and they shook on it. Then he pulled a scroll from his pocket, waved a hand, and then handed it to Rumple. "That sufficient?"

Rumple read the article carefully before nodding.

Gwydion produced a quill and signed at the bottom. Then he handed it to Rumple and he signed also.

Once he'd rolled up the deed and put it in his pocket, the older wizard began to chat about the palace and certain members of court that he would introduce Rumple to that afternoon besides King Maurice. "Oh, and there's one noble I have to warn you about in advance. His name's Gaston and unfortunately he's got the king's favor because he's courting Princess Belle. Otherwise I'd transform the rude beast into a frog and set him on a lily pad in the royal pond. But since Moe likes him, I have to grit my teeth and endure him."

"We've met," Rumple said shortly, and told Gwydion about how Gaston had almost run over his children on the way to the City.

The older sorcerer sighed. "That doesn't surprise me in the least. Gaston's insufferable, always has been. Best to steer clear of him." Then he grinned like a schoolboy. "And you come-hithered him just like a misbehaving child! Oh sweet Selene singing, I wish I'd seen that! I'd have laughed myself sick."

They spent the remainder of the half-hour talking and then Gwydion looked at his mantle clock, shaped like a unicorn, and rose. "Come, Rumple. Time to say hello to his Majesty."

Rumple followed the Royal Magician out of his quarters and down the hall to the small throne room, which was where Maurice conducted business with the nobles on a daily basis. He tried to do as Arrow had suggested and walk with a certain swagger in his step and his head high, though his heart was thumping like a bass drum in his chest and he feared he'd trip over his own feet when he was presented to the king.

A herald announced them as they came into the chamber, and Maurice looked up from a table where he was seated. He was a rather portly man in a splendid robe of red velvet and ermine, wearing a gold chain of office and a slender fillet over his graying locks. His eyes were keen and shrewd as he assessed the two coming towards him.

There were several others in the room, nobles all, including Belle, who looked up from the book she was perusing on the window seat as the herald called out, "Royal Magician Gwydion and his apprentice, Master Spinner Rumplestiltskin!"

She almost dropped the book she was reading at the sight of Rumple in his new finery. Her blue eyes went wide in disbelief.

Could this be the same spinner she had met on the road outside the City? The same spinner who'd given her that delightful book in the library?

Her mouth went dry as she saw him walking towards her father. He still limped, but the limp was hardly noticeable because of the skin-tight leathers he was wearing . . . leathers that accented every inch of his thighs and calves and his . . .backside. Now Belle had seen a man's legs before, since some court dress was hose of many different colors, but somehow the sight of Rumplestiltskin in those leathers made her gasp for air. And that . . . strut! It pulled the material tight across his backside . . . and Belle couldn't take her eyes off him. _Gods of Earth and Sky! He has the sexiest ass I've ever seen!_ She felt her face heat at the thought, and buried her nose in her book again, but she kept peering over the top, unable to resist looking at him.

Rumple was close to turning tail and running when he saw the way the nobles surrounding Maurice were looking at him, with a mix of condescension and what he thought was disapproval, but was actually shock at the fact that Gwydion had finally chosen a new apprentice and he was a stranger to the City to boot.

Gwydion halted several paces from the table and bowed to the king, "Your Grace, may I present Rumplestiltskin, master spinner and new arrival to our fair City, and also my apprentice in sorcery." He gestured with a flourish to his new apprentice.

Rumple came forward and bowed low, then slowly straightened, unsure of whether to speak.

Maurice nodded, then gave his newest sorcerer a smile. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Master Spinner. Might I have you pronounce your name for me again, that I may say it correctly? There's nothing worse when someone mangles your name."

"It's pronounced Rumplestiltskin, Your Grace," Rumple said, enunciating it clearly. "But if you wish, you can call me just Rumple."

Maurice repeated it, then said, "A most unusual name. Where do you hail from originally?"

"Well, I was born in the Enchanted Forest, but have most recently come from the kingdom of New York, a land far from here. It was my intention, sire, to come and start a new life here with my two children, if that would be acceptable?"

"I don't see why not. I could use another learned sorcerer around my palace and keep Gwydion from becoming bored out of his mind. And you spin too?"

"Yes, sire. That's my trade, I'm a master spinner and weaver."

"Very interesting! A spinner who practices magic. How quaint!" Maurice chuckled. "Have you secured lodgings for yourself?"

"Uh . . . I'm staying at an inn called The King's Rest, sire."

"Yes, I know of it. A fine inn, but a sorcerer, even an apprentice, needs better than a public inn to live in. Gwydion, does the caretaker's cottage on the west lawn still stand empty?"

"I believe so, Your Grace."

"Good. Have it cleaned and aired out and furnished with whatever Master Rumple deems necessary. You can live there with your children and your familiar. It's close enough to the palace for Gwydion to summon you if he needs to and far enough away for you to have some privacy."

"Thank you, Your Grace. That's very generous of you."

"Not at all. That's part of an apprentice fee, as Gwydion's told me several times," Maurice said. "Welcome to Avonlea. Gwydion, introduce him to some of the lords here while I listen to some cases." The king shuffled some papers around, and then turned, as if recalling something. "Oh, Belle, ,come here for a moment. I'd like you to meet Gwydion's new apprentice, Master Rumplestiltskin."

Belle put her book aside and rose from the window seat, wearing a beautiful green day gown of watered silk with pearls accenting the bodice, her hair piece and her shoes. She came forward, a smile on her lips, and held her hand out to Rumple. "A pleasure to meet you, Master Rumplestiltskin."

Rumple took her hand in his, feeling his pulse jump almost out of his throat. _Oh, Belle!_ He bowed over her hand and kissed it lightly, praying he remembered the manners his spinster aunt drilled into him for addressing a noble lady. "The pleasure is all mine, Your Grace." His brown eyes met hers for a brief instant.

And sparks leapt between them.

Belle gently withdrew her hand from him, though she wanted to throw her arms about him and kiss him like there was no tomorrow . . . the way she had never wanted to kiss any man ever. _Oh, Rumple, what have you done to me? I've never felt this way about anyone before. Is this what it means to desire someone? Because if so, I desire you more than any man I've ever known, you sexy spinner! I feel like I've flown off the top of a mountain, like I can't catch my breath . . . just like all those heroines in my tales, when they see their true love for the first time._

She smiled, correctly polite, and withdrew back to the window seat, wishing she dared invite him over. Perhaps she could slip him a note before he left, with her trusted maidservant, Beatrice Potts. Then they could meet again in the library and she could see him again and discuss books and . . . other things. And she would hope he'd wear those striking leather pants again, so she could secretly admire his sexy backside while he was looking elsewhere.

A faint blush crimsoned her cheeks as she watched Rumple over the top of her book being introduced to some important nobles at court by his master. She smiled secretly to herself. The court had just gotten _a lot_ more interesting now that the spinner called Rumplestiltskin was here. She might even enjoy these boring court functions now that Rumple was there to share them with . . . she closed her eyes and licked her lips, thinking how strange it was that this man she hardly knew made her head spin around like a top. Was this what was meant by falling in love at first sight? Or was it just a story?

**A/N: Sorry for the rather slow update here, but I've been busy working on my sequel to The Gold Standard, A Very Golden Vacation, which I just posted a new chapter for, if you'd like to read it.**

**Hope you all liked and who agrees with me about Rumple being one sexy sorcerer in his leather pants?**


	33. Among the Stacks

**33**

**Among the Stacks**

After Rumple's presentation at court, word began to get around the City about the new sorcerer and master spinner, and soon people were talking curiously about this stranger who had made himself a home in the cottage on the palace grounds. People seemed surprised at the way the spinner comported himself, moving into the nicely appointed cottage about four days after his presentation, and the cottage was fully furnished and also came with a gardener and a maid-of-work to do the cleaning around the place, though it was rumored that Rumplestiltskin insisted upon paying his servants and he also, it was said, had been seen sweeping up his own porch and planting an herb garden out in the back of the cottage. He also still continued to spin and weave at the Guild House and had a stall at the market same as the other members.

It was quite a shock to the ordinary folk that a sorcerer was so very . . . down-to-earth and unpretentious. Not that Gwydion was pompous or arrogant, but he _was_ the Royal Magician, and hobnobbed with the nobles and important people of the kingdom, and was also King Maurice's advisor. So to the common people, he was far above them.

But Rumple, for all his new position as apprentice and his wolf familiar, still behaved as if he were merely ordinary. He walked everywhere in the City, despite his lame leg, not deigning to hire a carriage like nobles did. He could be seen about the City, in and around the Guild House, or The King's Rest, with his children and friend Jefferson. His polite and quiet manner made him approachable, and did not intimidate people, despite his magic. He had eaten dinner up at the palace quite a few times as Gwydion's guest, but most nights had supper at his own cottage, and lunch at the Guild hall or from one of the local cookshops. People whispered that despite his maid, he prepared his own meals most of the time, with his children's assistance.

Jefferson, despite being offered a room at Rumple's cottage, decided to bunk with some of the retired guardsman at the palace, who rented out rooms for sellswords and such for a reasonable rate. Jeff was a decent swordsman, and he had Dizzy as well, and quickly made himself at home with Avonlea's finest, and was known as Rumple's bodyguard and friend.

Things were looking up for Rumple and his family, when he received a note from one of the palace servants, a matronly woman called Beatrice Potts. Mrs. Potts had been Belle's nurse when she was a child, and still had a very good relationship with the bookish princess. Mrs. Potts came that afternoon to Rumple's cottage and delivered a note from her mistress, asking to meet Rumple at the library tomorrow, near the children's section, at 2 o'clock. The note also requested that he wear his leather ensemble, which Rumple usually only did when he was at a court dinner, as he thought it too fancy for everyday attire.

"She wants me to . . . dress up?" he said, flushing slightly as he read the note.

"Aye, that she does, love," Mrs. Potts chuckled. "I'd say ye made quite the impression on her, laddie! If ye'll forgive my saying so," she added, afraid he would take offense at her bluntness.

"Really, dearie?" Rumple said, blinking in astonishment. "Then I guess I'd better do what she says."

"That's always wise," Mrs. Potts smiled. "Though Her Grace is not one to hold grudges. My son, Chip, is her page boy, and once he tripped and spilled wine on her hem. Now, most other highborn ladies would have had him scrubbing till his fingers were raw or whipped for such a lapse, but milady Belle just said to bring her a cold wet cloth and soak the gown later and just shrugged and said accidents happen."

"How old is your son?" Rumple asked, curious.

"He's eight, young for a page's duties, but he's a good little worker and he's eager to please. His actual name is Crispin, Chip is a nickname I gave him when he was small, because he had a chipped tooth and was always lisping a little through it. He's since lost it, but not the name," Mrs. Potts said proudly.

"He sounds like a nice lad. If you want, bring him by someday, Beatrice, and he can play with Bae and Val when he has some free time," Rumple invited.

"That would be splendid! Chip's a little young to be mingling with the other pages, they're a year or more his senior and sometimes they play rough," Mrs. Potts said. "I'll tell him you've invited him over and bring him by perhaps on Friday afternoon? Since Saturday's the Spring Faire?"

"Friday's fine, Beatrice. And please, call me Rumple."

"Done then, Rumple," she said. Then she gave him a saucy wink and said, "Enjoy your afternoon at the library tomorrow!" before she turned to walk back up the path to the palace.

Rumple stared at the note in his hand, his heart starting to beat fast at the thought of Belle's slender fingers writing this missive. He could easily imagine every nuance of her expressive heart-shaped face, and just doing so made him grow hot all the way down to the tips of his boots. He could hardly wait for tomorrow afternoon. He went inside his house, which was similar to his old cottage in the Enchanted Forest, except it was larger, with two rooms downstairs, a small bathroom and cold room/pantry, as well as a set of stairs leading to the upper story of the house, which had also been partitioned off to create three bedrooms and a storage space.

The cottage had a large family room, complete with a fine stone fireplace, before which Rumple had set up his wheel and basket of wool, and it also contained a horsehair-stuffed settle of fine crimson and gold brocade, two floor lamps with mage globes in them magicked by Gwydion, a mantle clock shaped cunningly like a spinning wheel, and a round iron holder for the wood used for both the fireplace and the cast iron stove in the kitchen. Wood was brought to him by a tall sixteen-year-old called Simon, the cousin of the gardener, Seth. The maid, Linnea, was a woman in her thirties, who wore thick glasses and squinted, she sometimes stammered, but Rumple was patient with her, and she was content to work for him.

She was in the kitchen now, with flour dusting her apron and face, showing Bae and Val how to make sweet rolls for dessert, her brown hair tucked up beneath her white ruffled cap. "Now, you sp-sp-sprinkle them with cinnamon and s-s-sugar, like so . . ."

"Those smell delicious, dearie," Rumple said upon entering the kitchen.

"Papa, Linnea's showing us how to make cinnamon sweet rolls," Val told him, her hands full of sugar.

"And she let us roll some out," Bae added, his face speckled with cinnamon.

"Oh, M-M-aster R-R-Rumple!" Linnea gasped, startled. "I-I-I . . .w-w-wasn't expectin' you . . ."

"Relax, Linnea," he soothed. "I'm sorry I scared you."

Linnea began to stammer an apology, but Rumple held up a hand. "No need for that, dearie. Now take a deep breath and stop trying to talk fast. Take your time, Linnea, I'm not in a rush."

"Y-yes, sir," she murmured, flushing. Really, Master Rumple was so kind. Most people yelled at her to just say what she meant and hurry up about it, which only made her stammer worse. "They'll . . . be done in . . . f-f-fifteen minutes."

"I look forward to eating them for dessert," the master spinner replied. Then he looked at his children. "Val, Bae, where are your library books? They need to be brought back if you're done reading them, since I'm going there tomorrow while you're in school."

He had enrolled them in the merchant school per Derek, and their first class was tomorrow at nine in the morning.

"They're up in my room," Val told her father. "I'll bring them to you after supper, Papa."

"Thank you, Val. I'll pick you up some new ones while I'm there," Rumple told her, knowing her thirst for literature.

"Papa, I want a story about knights and dragons this time," Bae told him.

"And I want one where a girl rescues someone," Val said.

"Okay, dearies. I'll see what I can do," Rumple promised. He would ask Belle to help him, he decided. Then they would have an excuse to spend even more time together.

Humming softly, he went to get out the dishes, which were pewter and not wooden ones like he'd had in the Enchanted Forest, and cutlery and set the table, which could hold at least five people, and had fine oak chairs as well.

There was a large pie safe, which could be locked, though Rumple never did so; he had the key on a ring on his belt. The pie safe was colored a deep blue and had a picture of a blue phoenix rising from magical flames on it. It could hold many things, though right then it had some table linens, a crock of butter, another of honey, and some bread that Linnea had baked yesterday.

Next to the pie safe was a large round window, which looked out upon the pretty garden Seth was planting.

In the west corner was the big stove, and a counter was built next to it, and it also included a granite sink with water that was pumped into it from the castle cisterns deep in the ground, so Rumple no longer needed to rely on a well and a bucket for fresh water for bathing, drinking, or cleaning. Above the counter were racks for pots, pans, and ladles, and some implements already hung on them. A teakettle was on the stove, and some red and blue embroidered oven mitts hung on hooks next to the stove.

Beside the stove was a wall oven and a niche for cookie sheets and a large wooden paddle was hung on the wall for retrieving bread. Across the way was the pantry with some foodstuffs and strings of herbs and garlic hung above the counter, where the person preparing a meal could get to them.

Upon the wall next to the pie safe was a framed sampler made by Val of a cat curled up on a cushion and beneath it the words Home Sweet Home, which she had done while they were in New York.

The floor and walls were of a light golden oak, which made the room warm and cozy. His two children were kneeling on chairs before the counter, while Arrow lay beneath the table, gnawing on a meaty bone from the castle kitchens.

The savory smell of beef short ribs in gravy and some root vegetables filled the air as the master spinner, his mouth watering slightly, withdrew the bread and butter from the safe and set them beside the salt and pepper on the table.

Rumple had just finished setting out the cups when a knock came at the cottage door and he answered it, to admit Jefferson and Dizzy, who shared supper with them almost every night.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Cora Miller slammed the plate of stew down in front of her father and then flounced into her seat, flashing the older man a look of simmering anger. Bart had just lectured her about the way she treated Mandy again, when she had yelled at the toddler for spilling her cider on her frock at dinner, telling the child that if she didn't stop being so clumsy she wouldn't have any dessert, which was oatmeal cookies their neighbor had baked. This was the second time the miller had done so, the first being after that interfering busybody spinner had come to the house and informed him of how she had punished the wayward brat three days ago.

Cora was furious, since normally Bart never interfered with her discipline of her sister, he was usually too tired after a day at the mill to observe much, and she was careful to never leave bruises on the wretched child, who tried her patience to no end with her constant questions and silly antics. Cora wished at times her father would hire someone to care for her sister, so she could do other things with her times besides mind the little brat. But Bart was a miser, only spending his hard earned gold as necessary, and he had made it clear to Cora after the death of his wife that running the household fell to her now . . . and Mandy was part of that duty.

But lately, since that wretched Rumplestiltskin had come by, her father had been watching her more closely, and had the nerve to scold her when she tried to instill some manners into her sister. "Really, Daddy, if you don't correct her now, she'll grow up to be a . . . a hooligan in no time flat," she told the miller sulkily, her pretty mouth turned down in an unattractive pout.

Mandy was playing with her doll beside the hearth, having finished her supper, and oblivious to the way her sister was speaking about her.

"Cora, the lass is no different than you were at her age, 'cept you were a lot more inclined to bellow when you didn't get your way," Bart said, eating his stew. "All little kids spill things, it's not a big deal . . . unless you make it. She'll grow out of it."

Cora snorted, breaking off a piece of bread and dunking it in her bowl. "That's all you have to say? You'd let her run wild if you had your way—"

Bart frowned. "Walloping her for everything like you do isn't teaching her anything except to be timid and it's unnecessary, Cora. I never did that to you when you were her age, and neither did your mama."

"Mother smacked me plenty sometimes," Cora snapped.

"Only when you gave her lip, and that was when you were older," Bart pointed out. "Not when you were small and never in front of strangers, like you did in front of Rumplestiltskin. You're lucky he didn't bring you up on charges, lass."

"Rumplestiltskin! Rumplestiltskin!" Cora growled, her eyes flashing. "I'm sick of hearing about him, that nosy old cripple! Ever since he came here, that's all people talk about down at the guild house. Master Rumple and his wonderful techniques for spinning thread! And his new weaving patterns! Humph! He's a simple country spinner with a bit of magic and people over here think he hung the moon."

Bart frowned. "Best watch yourself, Cora. That quick tongue of yours could get you in serious trouble, lass, especially if you flap it at a sorcerer."

Cora rolled her eyes. Her father didn't know what he was talking about. The master spinner was so mild-mannered he set her teeth on edge . . . as well as fanning the flames of her jealous ambition. Before he had come, her own weaving and spinning had drawn praise from Master Derek and the others in the guild, but since Rumple had arrived, she'd been forced to play second fiddle to him. And while she hated to admit it, he _was_ better than she was . . . and that made her stomach sour. That silly sow Griselda now fluttered and sighed over every move the master spinner made, and so did the other apprentices, following him about with awestruck looks on their faces, as if they'd been struck dumb by lightning. The other journeymen praised his techniques and copied them, and Master Derek and the others acted like he was the most wonderful thing since the invention of the sewing machine. And the fact that he was a sorcerer only added to his mystique.

"I wish blasted Rumplestiltskin would limp on back to wherever he came from!" she said spitefully. "Sorcerer indeed! I've yet to see him use magic to do more than light a candle."

"Seems to me you're a wee bit jealous, lass," Bart observed.

"Jealous! Of him? I can spin just as well as he can, even if he is a master," Cora said. "And I'll prove it at the faire this weekend. I've won the spinning contest for three years running and I'll win it again, Daddy. Just watch me."

"Just mind you don't get on the sorcerer's bad side, Cora. They're not known for their forgiving natures," Bart warned. "And do try and be more patient with Mandy. She's a little girl, and all she wants is for you to be kind to her."

Cora rolled her eyes. "You can do that, she's your baby. I have more important things to do."

"Like what?"

"Land sakes! I need to practice for the contest, must I spell it out? I've got no time for snuggling with drooling brats."

Bart raised an eyebrow. "You know, you'll never snare a husband with that kind of attitude. A man doesn't want a shrew for a wife."

Cora said nothing, but began to eat her stew. Her father didn't know anything, after all he'd married her mother, and Kristine Miller had ruled the roost in this house . . . and Cora would do the same . . . only she wanted much more than being a miller's daughter. She wanted a position at court, as a royal seamstress, and had been well on the way to recognizing that ambition until that miserable Rumplestiltskin had shown up. Oh, how she wished there were a way to make him pay for his audacity and prove to everyone he was no better than he should be!

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

_The King's Library_

_The next afternoon:_

Rumple walked slowly up the stairs to the children's section, after having returned the books Val and Bae had given him to the girl behind the circulation desk, trying not to appear as eager as a boy at his first formal date. He wondered why the princess wished to meet with him here, but he was too excited to see her again to think very hard about her reasons . . . unless she wished to discuss the book he had given her. Yes, that must be it.

He paused just beyond the stacks where the children's books were located, and waited, leaning slightly on his staff. He wished he knew a spell to lessen his limp a bit, and resolved to ask Gwydion about it next time he saw the master magician. He glanced down at himself, wearing his dragonhide leathers and boots as she had requested, along with a blue silk shirt and matching vest with swirling patterns on it, his hair combed neatly and tied with a blue ribbon. He hoped he looked all right, and not like some prancing peacock, like Gaston, whom he had seen at court a few days ago, fawning all over Belle.

He fought the urge to start pacing up and down. Perhaps she had forgotten the time, or gotten caught up in something more important. There were a dozen other reasons she could be late . . . after all he was nobody important, just an apprentice sorcerer and a spinner, and she was a princess of the realm.

Suddenly a slender white hand poked out from behind the furthest stack of children's books and tugged on his sleeve. "Psst! Rumple!"

"Your Grace—I mean, Belle!" he gasped and spun around to see her standing there, dressed in a simple blue frock with brown edging and laces, with a ruffled white blouse beneath, such as any country lass might wear, her dark hair bound with a simple blue ribbon. Her eyes danced merrily as she put a finger to her lips and drew him back into the stacks with her. "I thought . . . you'd forgotten about our . . . err . . . meeting."

"You did? I had to take the long way here, since that buffoon Gaston was looking for me. He wanted me to see some stupid bear-baiting down at the Red Bull tavern. As if I wanted to see some pack of vicious hounds attacking a poor chained bear and placing bets on it!" her nose wrinkled.

"Why on earth would he think you wanted to see that?"

"Probably because he enjoys that sort of thing and any girl who likes him would go because he did," Belle said, rolling her eyes. "But I managed to slip off, he thinks I went back to get a wrap in my quarters." She giggled like a mischievous girl who had skived off from her tutor to play in the woods. "Anyway, I'm here now."

"I'm glad. Did . . . did you read that book I gave you?" he queried, suddenly diffident now that she was beside him, one hand resting gently on his arm.

"Oh yes! And it was wonderful!" Belle said, smiling. "One of the best books I've ever read. And you say there's another one?"

"Yes. It's called _The Scarlet Lion_. I . . . I have it back at my cottage. I can bring it tomorrow . . . or send it with Mrs. Potts, since she's bringing Chip to play with Bae and Val," he said, inordinately pleased that she had enjoyed his simple gift.

"Oh, would you?" her eyes shone like two polished sapphires. Then, fearing she sounded like a ninny, rhapsodizing over a book as if it were a cherished treasure, she dropped her gaze . . . and her eyes fell on his leg, encased in that supple leather.

Her mouth went dry as a bone with the marrow sucked from it, recalling how he had looked walking across the room in those pants . . .so totally unaware of the way he made her heart throb and her pulse race. Involuntarily, her hand moved, going from his arm to gently cup his waist, her fingers straying naughtily a bit lower down. "So . . . how are you finding the court?" she blurted, desperate to say something.

"It's been . . . interesting so far," he allowed, thrilling to her touch. His hand reached out, almost of its own volition, and gently slipped through her hair. Abruptly he realized what he had done and started to withdraw, stammering, "Belle, I . . . umm . . ."

Suddenly her eyes lifted and met his, and in them he saw an astonishing thing.

She was not repulsed by his touch, as Milah had been for so long. Instead he saw in her brilliant blue gaze a slow burning flame of desire. His breath caught in disbelief. It had been so long since any woman had looked at him thus . . . as if he were all she ever wanted . . . all that she had ever dreamed of . . . his hands moved then, gliding through her hair and coming to rest gently on her shoulders.

His fingers were like hot irons against her skin, branding her with a searing heat she had never known before. Gaston's touch had brought her nothing save an urge to scrub herself raw, but Rumple's hands made her giddy as if she had drunk unwatered wine on an empty stomach. She leaned instinctively forward, her hand splaying across his backside, her head tilting up, her mouth parting and then she was kissing him.

Her kiss was delicate at first, like the fluttering of butterfly wings against his lips. Yet it caused a flashfire sensation to run through him, and he gently cupped her head in his hands and pulled her against him, kissing her back with infinite tenderness, showing her slowly how it was done, all the while marveling that she was even here, and kissing him like a long lost lover forced to part.

Belle discovered that his touch set her on fire, that she reveled in the feel of his hands on her, and his kiss tasted sweeter than honey and more intoxicating that a draught of whiskey. She had never kissed a man like this before, not like this, the quick pecks she had given Gaston did not count, they had been done out of duty, but this . . . this was true passion, that she had only read about, but never experienced until now. Rumple's kiss made her ache in places she'd never known, stole the breath from her body, made her long for someplace more private with pillows and a mattress . . .

Rumple kissed her gently at first, not wishing to frighten her, but that single kiss was doing things to him that seven years with Milah had not managed even once. Gasping, his fingers twined in her hair, and he pulled her against him, leaning back against the bookshelf. Then his kiss changed, altering slowly from gentle to passionate, desire shooting through him like lightning, as he realized that she wanted him the way no other woman ever had.

Just for a moment he forgot that she was as far above him as the stars in the sky, and simply reveled in the fact that she was enjoying his touch, his kiss, with no grudging acceptance or stiffness. It made his heart soar with joy. He could have gone on kissing her like that forever . . . until he heard footsteps coming down the corridor.

Then he reluctantly drew back, recalling himself. He was nothing but a simple country spinner and she was a princess . . . and he had just kissed her as if she were his beau. Where anyone could see.

Her eyes widened as she heard the footsteps . . . then she did something totally unexpected.

She wound her arms about him and buried her face in his shoulder.

"Belle!" he hissed.

"Shh! Just hold me, Rumple. Hold me like you never want to let go."

He did, clasping her to him, and whispering, "How's that, dearie?" before he buried his face in her hair.

They heard the footsteps pause, then suddenly turn about and go the opposite way, muttering about getting lost in this huge place.

Rumple smirked into Belle's hair, thinking he could get lost in the stacks quite happily . . . especially if Belle were beside him. "That was close."

She lifted her head. "A little too close." Abruptly she drew away. "Rumple . . . I've never . . . that is . . . I've never wanted to do that with any man before . . ."

"Really, dearie?" he said, astonished. "Surely your fiancé . . .?"

"His kisses made me want to scrub out my mouth with soap," she giggled. "But yours are like eating chocolate . . . sinfully rich and sweet."

"Mmm . . . and yours are the same to me, may all the gods listen," he murmured.

She grinned. "We're well matched then."

He stared at her in disbelief. "We are? Belle, I'm just a spinner and you're a princess. How can you say that?"

"Because, Rumple, what we share goes beyond whether I'm a princess. I think . . . I think it's fate that we met."

"Here? In the library?"

"What better place for two people who love books to meet? Don't you see? Here is the one place I don't have to be a princess. Where I can just be Belle. And sharing this time with you . . . is what I want most."

He swallowed hard. Then he gave a nervous chuckle. "Gods know why that is. My wife claimed I was the most boring creature on earth, always spinning and reading, dull as dishwater she called me . . . among other things . . ." He flushed.

"Then she was a total idiot. Probably didn't have the brains the gods gave a goose, and could barely read a paragraph, much less comprehend a whole book!" Belle flared, suddenly angry at this man's faithless wife, who'd belittled a decent man and caused him such pain. "Dull? Gaston and all his friends are dull, for all his strutting and bragging, all he can talk about is his latest kill and how everyone admires him. Ha! Now _that's_ dull! At least with you I can actually have a conversation about something other than a dead animal and how fast it ran and how many arrows it took to bring it down. And you care about people other than yourself, Rumple. Your kids, your friend Jeff, Arrow, and that's worth more to me than any silly title and noble Name."

She gestured about her. "I've come here almost every day for years, searching for knowledge, and for something I couldn't even name . . . something I could never find up there in my white palace. And now I know what it was. I've been searching for someone like you, Rumplestiltskin. Someone I can talk to, share ideas with, who can think and do more than swing a sword and ride a horse. And the fact that you can kiss a girl so good she forgets her own name and look hotter than a bonfire in dragonscale is just . . .amazing. Your wife was ten kinds of a jackass to treat you so, and she's lucky she's not here, because I'd give her the royal treatment all right—a good fist to her jaw for telling you such lies."

Rumple started snickering. "Dearie, I'd love to see that! And Milah would deserve it. But surely you know that . . .what we just shared . . . was amazing, but . . . we would never be approved. We might be equals intellectually, but commoners don't court princesses, except in ballads and stories."

"Then maybe we should change the rules," Belle said stubbornly. "But for now . . . let's pretend this is a story . . . _our_ story . . . and I'm just a girl you met at the library . . . who would like very much if we went out walking for a bit around the city and had some lunch . . . master spinner."

"Okay. I . . . I'd like that too," he agreed, astonished.

Then she sighed. "If only I was sure no one would recognize me."

"I can make sure," Rumple said suddenly, smirking like a child up to some mischief. "I can cast a glamour on you and make it so you won't be recognized."

"How? What will you change?" she asked eagerly.

"Just one thing. Your eyes, dearie. For that's what people notice . . . and what they recognize most." He passed a hand over her face and concentrated. "There! Now those beautiful blue eyes of yours are merely brown . . . and anyone looking at you will see a pretty lass in a very cute dress." He held out his arm to her. "Shall we go, mistress? For suddenly I'm starving."

She put her arm in his, quivering slightly at his touch. "So am I, Rumple. Now let's go find something to eat."

"As you wish . . .Belinda." He winked at her. "That means very beautiful, according to a book I read in New York. Just don't make me forget to come back here. I promised my children I'd pick out more books for them to read."

"I won't. I can even help you," "Belinda" giggled, then she tugged him gently out from behind the stacks and together they walked down the stairs and out into the sunshine, just a master spinner and the girl he met at the library.

**A/N: Sorry I was late updating this but I was finishing up A Very Golden Vacation and working on a Once Halloween fic and my new Rumple/Bae/Belle story called The Way Curses Are Broken which will feature a slightly different Belle/Rumple pairing eventually.**

**Hope you enjoyed their time at the library and all and aren't getting bored with the pacing of this story. Some things will happen at the faire with Cora and Gaston and they'll have a little lunch date next chapter too! **


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